"Hey guys," I greeted the phone's camera in a defeated voice. "It's your one and only changeling queen, Anonymous Flicker, coming to you live from Mane Street. You ever have one of those days that's going, like, super good, and then things just go from good to weird, and then to kinda depressing?" With a chuckle, I shook my head before sipping my iced coffee. "Yeah, it's been one of those days, ponies."

I held my phone out further from me to give the viewers a better look at my new appearance. "I hope you don't mind the new look too much," I continued with a smile. "A question somepony anonymously—ha—sent in recently reminded how deranged my natural form's mane was starting to look. As a result decided I needed to update my image a bit, both in and out of disguise."

Dramatically, I draped myself across the table and sighed. "Given the day I had, I figured maybe some Q&A would make me feel better." As I finished off my beverage and tossed it perfectly into a trash-bin a couple of metres away, I rolled onto my back, contorting myself in a way most ponies would find uncomfortable. Hell, one of the ponies who'd shown up to spy earlier was feeling so queasy that I could feel it from here. "Starting off with the question one that inspired this change in style, 'Have you ever considered working in modelling? If you can look like anypony or anything, then surely you'd be perfect for the job.'"

I giggled at the thought of me walking the runways modelling clothes. "I actually used to do a bit of that for Rarity in my teens, but it was always about promoting her work, not my appearance," I explained. "Sometimes a model she hired would end up getting sick, but the dresses being photographed for magazines were tailored for specific models. Well, when I was free, I helped her out, and her contracts all stipulated such. I didn't even mind only getting a portion, since it was their images being used. That said, it's not really my thing. I'm a pony of magic, not self-parade."

My ears flicked, and I rolled onto my side in a pose that would possibly be considered sensual. "Viewer Celeste asked, 'Hi Anon, I was wondering if it's any easier or harder to transform into something really small or really big? Also, if you transform and your disguise includes clothes, do the clothes materialize with your transformation, or are they part of your skin or something?'" I recited, fixing the camera with a smile. "As a little green creature from a movie back in my old world once said, 'Size matters not.' As long as I've got enough mass and energy stored, I can theoretically get as big as a fully-grown dragon before having issues sustaining myself. I could also easily become as small as a mouse, too, but, well... cats are a thing, y'know? It's not hard, just results in a lot of waste converting mass and either compacting it or expanding it and violating the laws of physics."

I rolled off the table and added wings to my form, quickly taking off into a low flight over the bay. "Clothes aren't easy because of all the threads of hair I need to create and have connected to me." When I drew close to the edge of the city, I banked around to take me around the perimeter "Wasteful. It's easier just to have something made ahead of time."

Eventually, my flight took me towards the Brighthouse. Nopony was up on the top deck, so nobody would care if I just landed on the roof of the gallery. "Last question's from that same anonymous viewer. Well, two questions," I said with a chuckle. "'How strong can alicorns get? Is Sunny Starscout a princess?' In my time, she might have claim to a crown if she fully ascended, but she seems to be in a state in between being a normal pony and ascension. Today? Well... If Queen Haven legally adopted her, maybe.

"As for power, let's just say that a fully realised alicorn, one with full connection to their aspect, can do some amazing and terrifying things." I perked an eyebrow at the camera and then glanced away. "I'll remind you that Celestia and Luna once controlled the sun and moon. Either was technically a single bad day away from killing all life on the planet. Y'know, nice happy stuff, that."

Shaking my head and chuckling at the terror that must've inspired, I finally said, "You wanna know what kind of day I had? It all started over a cup of coffee..."

~ 08 ~

"Well, that went well," I whispered to myself as I stepped out of Phyllis Cloverleaf's office. "All things told, she seemed nice." She didn't seem like a flaming racist, but looks could be deceiving. Maybe she was just nice because I was presenting in my earth pony mare appearance.

Canterlogic Publishing—a subsidiary of Canterlogic Inc., former provider for all things race-war—wouldn't have been my first choice in getting Your Magic and You published, but it was the only publisher in the region that would agree to strictly publishing it physically in the dimensions provided. Although I'd managed to get into contact with a publishing house in Bridlewood, they didn't have the capability to crank out lots of books. Similarly, when I'd been on the phone with a publisher up in Zephyr Heights, they were more interested in it being purely digital. Given how small screens were and how important it was for the unicorn portions to be viewed all at once in clear detail, that was a big deal-breaker for me.

Oh, to be sure, Phyllis was a shrewd businessmare, but she wasn't mean about it. I'm just glad she was willing to back down to a sixty forty split, down from fifty fifty. So long as ten of my sixty percent was going into a charity of our mutual agreement, she was happy to acquiesce. The way we both turned a profit beyond production costs, her company would boast the title of first publisher of true magic in centuries—thus repairing some of the damage recent events had done to the company's image—and I would get a decent royalty rate. Honestly, she probably could've taken more if she didn't like my charity idea so much.

As I walked through the halls of the small office building in my plain earth pony Anon skin, a pony who'd just opened a door stepped out into my path without looking. In spite of my size, which I kept a few centimetres shorter than the average mare, I tended to let a bit of extra mass put some weight behind my hooves when I was out and about in this form. It was a sort of safety measure in order to keep me from getting knocked over easily. As a result, when ponies bumped into me like this, it tended to be them who went for a tumble.

I glanced down at the floored pony. It was a familiar looking red stallion with a straw-blonde mane. Again, I was reminded of Big Macintosh, but this fella was way too scrawny. Plus, Mac didn't have white sock patterns in his coat. Actually, a lot of ponies seem to have socks these days, now that I think about it.

"Ugh, could you watch where you're going?" the pony on the floor whined, rubbing his muzzle. "I was walking there."

"Oh! It's you, Little Red," I exclaimed as I finally remembered where I'd seen him. He was Phyllis's little wannabe dictator, conjurer of giant glimmerberries and the dude I helped out just before the motel I was staying at burned down. When he started to glare at me, I smiled and reached out a hoof. "Sorry, that's Sprout Cloverleaf, right? C'mon, let's get you up."

Although strictly speaking, I would never be as strong as an earth pony back in the past, none of these ponies seemed to be passively buffing their strength by cycling their mana through their bodies. With increased muscle density in this form, I was on average half again as strong as your every day stallion here as a result. He seemed utterly baffled when I hauled him up to his hooves like it was nothing, which just made me giggle some more.

"Uh, t-thanks," he stammered. Oh boy, was he ever embarrassed. There was also a bit of emotion directed toward me from him that I wasn't completely sure of, which is kinda funny when I think about it—been a bug fifteen years on the old Equestrian calendar, so I should be an expert on that shit, right? "Anonymous Flicker, right?"

I nodded, quickly checking him over for any sort of injuries. Luckily, he didn't seem to bust his head open or break anything. Just a little bruised ego. "Yeah," I commented, slipping around him in the hallway. "Anyways, it was great seeing you, Sprout, but I gotta go. Catch you later!"

It took him until I was half-way down the hallway that took me to the lobby before I heard him speak. "Ms. Flicker, wait!" he called after me. "I, um, wanted to thank you for helping me that time... Do you think we could meet for coffee later?"

As I turned to face him, I considered for a moment. I was planning on going to Mane Melody to get my natural form a mane treatment with the signing bonus I'd gotten from his Mom, but I didn't exactly have anything pressing really keeping me from spending time with somepony new. "How's three hours from now at the coffee cart down from where Sunny usually opens up shop sound?"

The skinny-as-a-rake Big Macintosh wannabe nodded. "Then it's a date," he said as I trotted off.

~ 08 ~

You're probably thinking to yourself, 'Anon, you're a changeling, and you can make every single thing about you perfect; why do you need such things as mane treatments and hooficures? The simple fact of the matter is that even though, technically speaking, I'm breaking down everything to unshaped mass and energy when I transform out of my natural form, I am basically writing to memory my basic attributes and things like mane style, colouration and texture so that those things snap back when I revert. If I get a mane treatment or hooficure things look just as good when I revert after it's saved to memory, even if it was sans any of the lingering chemicals.

Sure, I can force changes that can persist through transformations—such as making my mane rainbow or turning my forelimbs into scythes—but I don't like to do that too much. A few years after I became a changeling, when I finally felt I could talk to a certain creepy changeling doctor without panicking, it was explained to me that although I could do such things, major changes like my forelimbs could result in permanent changes or damage to something called a 'morphic resonance'. It's the main reason I never play with my eyes in my natural shape. Must resist the urge to become a formless terror and sing in ungodly tongues beneath Opaline's windows at night.

So anyway... I was going to Mane Melody in my natural state to get my mane treated and styled now that it had grown back on its own. Really, it'd grown out way more than I intended, and I found that I looked something like a dishevelled Karen. Proper care needed to be taken to maintain my fucking regal looks, y'know? On with the story.

The bell above the door rang out as I pushed the door open. It was kinda surprising that Pipp wasn't in, since it was her joint and all, but no matter. Jazz Hooves and Rocky Riff were free, and it didn't look to be too busy. "Jazz, Rocky," I trilled in my creepy bug-queen voice, which I loved so much because it made ponies squirm. "Just the two ponies I was hoping to see."

"I can see why," the pegasus stallion commented with a bit of sass as I walked over to an empty chair by one of the basins. "Full treatment and styling? Or just making it more manageable?"

With a shrug, I rolled my shoulders. "I definitely need a treatment and styling, but I'm not sure if I have enough time for anything more than a touch-up," I explained. "I'm meeting with somepony for coffee in two and a half hours, and I don't wanna be tardy."

The two shared a look, before grinning at one another. "Two hours is more than enough time, girl," he trilled in a sing-songy voice. "By the time we're done, you're gonna be lookin' fleek."

I have no idea what that means.

As Rocky started filling the mane-wash basin and preemptively rinsing my mane, Jazz seemed to be consulting a screen of some sort. "Is there anything you're looking for in particular?" she glanced over and asked. "Something straight, something wavy, or perhaps something regal? For that matter, would you like us to touch up your tail while we're at it?"

That was a good question. "Something simple, I think... A style that can look good in any of my disguises and goes well in this green—" I quickly focused on changing the colour of my mane, and rocky let out a startled yelp as the magical blue flames ran up my mane. "—or this black. I want it to look good in any of my forms, y'know? Maybe something like Izzy's style, but with a side plait?" At that, I returned my mane to its natural green colour. "Oh, and if you use all natural ingredients, my transformation'll keep the effects better."

The pair shared another look before nodding down at me. "I think we can definitely manage that." Rocky spoke with confidence, quickly going over to a shelf to fetch some product for my mane. "By the time we're done with you, you'll wonder how you lived looking any other way."

As her compatriot quietly got to work, Jazz stuck by to chat me up. I couldn't see her face, but based on the vibe she was giving off, she was quite pleased with herself as she spoke. "So, you want to look good in your pony disguises," she said casually, trying and failing to mask that she was aiming for something specific. "They know that you're a shape-shifter?"

I nodded. "Some ponies still aren't used to the other tribes being together," I explained. I couldn't quite mask the happy sigh as the pegasus stallion's hooves massaged the softer chitin serving as my scalp. "Never mind a tall creepy changebug who totally didn't inspire the Slender-mane urban myth way back when. He's seen me flitting about when I'm a pegasus, as well as au naturel, but I only like making ponies uncomfortable when I'm feeling mischievous, y'know?"

Since he was standing above me, I could see when Rocky nodded, a smile creasing his cream coloured face. "That's quite considerate, and I'm sure he'll be appreciative of it." He looked over to his companion with quirked eyebrow. "If you're going to be wearing those glasses of yours, the quiet librarian look will definitely put him at ease. Don't you think, Jazz?"

I ignored the for sure, and instead focused on not falling asleep to his gentle ministrations. Before I could be put under by his gentle touch, however, I was pulled upright and dragged over to one of the styling chairs, where I was assaulted with hair dryers. My mane was dry in no time, and then the fiery-maned stylist was a blur of scissors and brushes.

Meanwhile, Jazz seemed to be considering something. In fact, she seemed to be staring at the protective bit of shell under which I kept my insect wings folded. After a few moments, she popped out to a back room, and returned with a box. "What do you say to getting a hooficure and we bump it up to a package deal?" She glanced at my 'hooves', which in my natural form were just extensions of my limbs, rather than protective deposits of keratin like pony hooves were. "After you transform I mean."

It was something I had to consider for a moment. It wasn't something I typically indulged in. Growing up, I always just did colourations myself if I wanted my hooves to look nice, but for the most part I never bothered. That said, I'd noticed hooves had become a lot more culturally relevant, especially among the tribes. Maybe it was the extended period of time without magic, but it'd become a matter of pride for today's ponies. Eventually, I agreed.

Once my mane was all set, and they pulled it into a side plait with a white bow, Jazz led me over to something like a chaise that I could lie on while she did my hooves and Rocky tidied up my tail. When I transformed for her, I decided to throw a sock pattern into my coat, making my legs fade from green to black like my pony form's mane.

Of course, they seemed to take issue with my unshorn fetlocks. I guess the Clydesdale look went out of style some time ago, so before my hooves even got a treatment, I ended up getting a fetlock trim. Then of course, out came the polish and my surprise. See, I guess when Rocky was styling my mane, she was trying to gauge the iridescent colour of my elytra. The colour she put on my hooves was a near perfect match. I actually quite liked the way it looked, too, so maybe it would be something I could treat myself to in my natural form from time to time, even without 'real' hooves.

Finally, they led me over to a full-length mirror and I got a good look at myself. The 'quiet librarian' look was definitely a good description. The black sock look would definitely be something I continued to use as well, and even the iridescent blue hoof-polish didn't look too bad. If I'd taken my pegasus form, honestly it might've reminded me a lot more of Emerald Breeze, my little sister's original mother. Either way, I found myself enraptured by my appearance. The pair also seemed quite satisfied with their work, because without warning, the earth pony mare snapped a picture of me with a smirk.

As I paid the ponies for their work, they gave each other a sly look. Together as one, the pair called out, "Go get him, girl!" and waved goodbye.

~ 08 ~

When I trotted up to the coffee cart, the clock on my phone said that I was a few minutes early. That said, it appeared Sprout was already here waiting for me at the end of the line for the cart. What struck me as odd was that he was wearing one of those white dress shirt-like collars, complete with a black tie, and his mane looked like it'd been styled into a pompadour. Couldn't explain for the life of me why he was doing that. In fact, I always thought that bit of pony fashion was weird.

He was also kinda nervous, based on the anxiety coming off of him. Well, that and he nearly leapt out of his skin when I called out to him. "I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?" I asked, putting away my phone. "The ponies at Mane Melody do good work, but I'm sure Jazzy will tell you, 'You can't rush perfection.'"

It was hard to tell given how red his coat was, but I thought I might've caught sight of a slight blush. There was that weird emotion again, too. "You, uh, you look different," he stammered. Quickly, as though he thought he said something insensitive, he backtracked. "N-not that it's a bad thing. You look nice. Maybe a bit intimidating with how well muscled you are, but they look suits you."

This is kinda weird... Why's he being so skittish? Things went quiet as we waited in line. Eventually it came our turns to order. He ordered just a black coffee, but I went with an iced coffee with chocolate milk and an unhealthy amount of sugar. Then we actually got into a short argument over who was paying. Apparently, both of us were channelling a little Rarity generosity today.

When our drinks were ready, we took a seat at one of the tables. Rather than being directly across from one another, he was to my right. This let me recline on my manicured left forehoof when I spoke. "So how's the community service going?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Anypony giving you trouble? Or are you proving that you're changing your ways?"

He shrugged, taking a big sip of his coffee. "Nopony's giving me grief over the whole angry mob thing anymore," he responded after a moment's thought. "As long as the town council keeps finding public works projects for me to work off my punishment, I could be free before Winter Wishday."

I smiled, earning a sheepish grin from the stallion. "Good for you," I said in a soft voice. "If you wanna really help your image, start hanging around with ponies of the other tribes like Sunny did. It can be hard to get past your biases, but you've probably seen how happy Pipp, Zipp, Izzy, and the recent addition to her social group, Misty, make her. That could be you with a little work."

To my surprise, I felt a little pride welling up in his aura. "You think so?" When I nodded, his sheepish smile grew into a more confident one. "Thanks, Anon."

What is this emotion he's directing at me? I feel like I should be recognising it, but it's nothing that's been directed at me before. That scares me, because I'm not used to not understanding what others are feeling.

"Mind if I ask you a question?" he asked, seemingly not realising the sarcastic response he could've earned. I quirked an eyebrow and tilted my head slightly, setting my drink down and motioning him to continue. "You can look like anything or anypony, right? You could make yourself slender and sexy like a supermodel, but instead you choose a well-toned athletic body. How do you decide?"

Not the sort of question I was expecting. "Standard of beauty changes over time," I answered with a shrug. "Most earth ponies I knew back then were fairly muscular and sturdily built, even if their professions weren't in the Equestrian Royal Guard or farming. This is how I probably would have looked if I continued to share a body with my little sister." With a bit of a giggle, I gestured at him with my free hoof. "Honestly, it's weird to me seeing earth ponies so—I don't mean to be offensive—scrawny."

At the outrage playing out on his face, I knew I had to quickly clarify. "It's not anything that you have any control over. I've noticed that none of today's earth ponies circulate the magic in their bodies passively, making you on par with unicorns and pegasi in terms of strength and muscle density." I shrugged and picked up my beverage and took a big sip. "Once ponies start becoming more conscious of their innate magics, a lot of earth ponies are gonna go through something of a second puberty and get super swole. Especially those in agriculture."

That got his attention real quick. "Magic makes ponies muscular?" He sounded incredulous. "How's that even work?"

I went into a short explanation of how a pony's magic flows throughout their bodies. It wasn't always a conscious effort to do it, but it could become as natural as breathing. Magic flowed through our bodies like lifeblood through metaphysical blood vessels, encouraging muscle growth, and speeding up recovery. It could even amplify strength. Pulling one of those tram cars going around town would be child's play for an earth pony.

Was it potentially a bad thing giving a former racist despot tips about using magic to get fucking ripped? Probably. But it was nice to see an earth pony other than Sunny showing an interest in magic. Plus, he'd probably attract a lot more positive attention if he put some meat on his bones. He wasn't bad looking.

"Could you show me?" asked Sprout with an eager glint in his eye.

It was hard not to smirk. "I can give you some nudges in the right direction, but if I tell you everything, nopony will buy the book your mother's gonna be publishing for me," I snarked before sitting up and reaching my left forehoof towards him. "Hold your hoof up against mine—frog to frog."

When he did so, I started to instruct him. "Shut your eyes and be mindful of what you feel," I commanded. Carefully, I started to extend my mana out through my forehoof and into his. "You might feel a sort of pressure, maybe some sort of foreign presence. This is my personal magic."

It took him a moment before he nodded, noting how tingly it made his hoof feel. "Now, I'm going to pull back my magic, and yours is going to rush in to replace it." I did exactly that, and then waited. When he grunted, I repeated the process. "Can you feel it, like an extra muscle?"

He nodded, beginning to smile. "Good, now instead of me stirring up your magic, I want you to try and flex your magic and press into mine." Even as he puzzled out how to do it, I sipped at my drink. I could feel a slight buzzing in my hoof, but he probably couldn't exert near the amount of fine control I could. "Good, now instead of pushing against my hoof, I want you to picture a channel going up your leg and into your chest. Try and follow that up to your reservoir. It should feel roughly where your heart's located. Don't pull it in and hold it, though. Just follow it up, and then let it flow."

We sat there for a few minutes, his hoof held against mine. Finally, he let out a gasp and whispered, "I feel it."

Finally. I pulled my hoof back and returned to propping up my chin with it. "There's the first step, Red," I explained. "You either gotta get the book, or experiment yourself to figure out how to excite the magic inside you and increase your mana flow."

He was radiating gratitude, excitement, and yet more of that strange emotion. There was also a moment of self doubt and a bit of disgust at both himself and me.

"Can you close your eyes, for a moment now?" he asked. "I wanna give you something as thanks, but..."

Again, I quirked my eyebrow, but I did as he asked. Screwing my eyes shut, I waited in silence. His anxiety was skyrocketing, but I could hear him moving, and he felt closer to me. I could even smell some sort of cologne on him now that he was so close.

"Oh for hoofness sake, just kiss her already!" I heard somepony shout—somepony who sounded a lot like a certain Princess Pipp Petals. But who's getting kissed?

It hit me right then, about the same time I felt him grab my cheeks and press his lips into mine. That feeling that I was having a hard time identifying? It was an emotion I'd seen shared between ponies a lot, but the fact that it was being directed at me was what made it so strange. Nopony's ever been attracted to me before... Why is this goof attracted to me?

My eyes slammed open, and before I even realised what I was doing, I'd grabbed his hoof with both of mine, and threw him over the table with a panicked shout. "Dude, what the fuck?" I screamed. "I thought this was just getting coffee! Where do you get off stealing my first kiss? Yeah, you're cute, but you're not my type!"

As I started spitting on the ground and trying to wipe off my mouth with my forelegs, he slowly pulled himself up the side of the table. "But... You were being super nice despite me being a screw-up, and you went through all that to hold my hoof..." He looked kind of woozy, and very confused. "You even gave me a nickname."

I shot a glare up the street to where I saw a bewildered looking Pipp, Rocky Riff, and Jazz Hooves peering around a building's corner. "I give everyone I meet nicknames. I called Princess Celestia the Sun Horse for a long-ass time." Turning my gaze back to him, I softened my voice. "You were interested in learning about earth pony magic and I ran you through an exercise."

He winced and started backing away. "I, uh, I think I misread some signals," he stammered, backing away. "You didn't treat me with revulsion, you helped me twice, and then you got all made up nice for the date."

"I thought that was a turn of phrase, not a statement of intent!" I hissed, making eye contact. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself. "If you're gonna ask somepony out on a date, make sure they know it's a date before trying anything. Sweet Celestia..." I shook my head, before whispering to myself. "No, don't get mad at him... He's just a big doofus. It wasn't malice, and he's not like them."

He probably thought I was crazy now, because he stagger-ran down the street, not looking back. Ooops. I think I concussed him. "Sorry about the concussion!" I called after him. "I don't like you that way, but I'm fine being friends."

~ 08 ~

"... So I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you ask someone out on a date, make sure that they know it's a date and consent to being on a date before kissing them," I said to the camera. "You never know who is gonna have a negative reaction to randomly being kissed. If you're watching this, Sprout, I'm sorry again." Pulling the phone against my chest tuft, I murmured, "This is your very freaked out queen, signing off."

I debated going down into the house to question Pipp about what the hell that was about earlier, but at the same time, I didn't really feel like taking out my frustrations on her, or really anyone in the household. Even Hitch didn't deserve my enmity... mostly because he was completely uninvolved in today's shenanigans. Taking it out on my friends would not make me feel better.

The only ponies I really had to blame for any of this were Sprout, for somehow mistaking being a decent pony for interest, and me for not realising and clearing up any misunderstandings ahead of time. Given that he'd already gotten punishment far in excess of what I'd done, the only pony I could really take it out on was myself...

Why did I panic so bad and throw him, though? I wondered, putting my phone away and just staring up at the sky. Therapy helped me get past all of the stuff I inherited from Emerald, as well as all the stuff in my old, human life that I did to get by. For that matter, why was I so upset about my 'first kiss'? Gah, I've been ruined by sappy romance manega.

As I stared off to the west, an idea struck me. There was one other pony I could blame for this whole damn mess. She'd been responsible for the world going to shit, everything beginning to fall apart, and me having to get stuffed in a time capsule in order to survive what would have been absolutely poisonous emotional turmoil blanketing the nation. I might not be able to directly interfere in her plans, but Mom's oath said absolutely nothing about tormenting her.

I'm gonna need that blunt I was saving, spray paint, glitter, cling wrap, paper, permanent marker, some nails, and super glue... Guess I'm gonna have to pay Izzy back for some stuff.

~ Opaline's Castle, Two A.M. ~

Sleep was a very important facet of Opaline Arcana's evilly mundane life. An alicorn deprived of most of her magic couldn't have a good day unless she got the bare minimum of eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Very little ever got in the way of her quite enjoyable dreams of regaining her power and conquering all of the world. That said, there were a few things that could wake even her from such joyous dreams. Being shaken awake, loud noises, and the sensation of being watched were chief among these things.

It was that last item on the list which drug the fire alicorn out of her beauty sleep with a feeling of absolute dread. Letting out a cry of terror and rage, she sat bolt upright and tore the sleep mask from her eyes. Even as she turned on the lights, her eyes were sweeping every lingering shadow for some sign of who had been watching her. Unfortunately, nothing nor anypony was there.

That was not to say that her room was left unchanged from how it had been from when she had been sleeping. The first out-of-place thing she noticed was that every panting in her room was crooked or straight up inverted. There was also the matter of every square centimetre of her room being dusted with glitter save for a large circular patch directly beside her bed. Finally, there was a piece of paper nailed to the inside of her bedroom door. How does anypony even nail something in so quietly!?

Sup, bitch?

I had a really shitty day, so guess what. Since you're the reason the whole world ended up this way, that means my shitty day is your problem too. I did you the favour of redecorating, and leaving you a few presents. Enjoy!

With the hate of a thousand burning suns,
Anonymous Flicker

P.S. I know where you sleep.
P.P.S. Treat your spy better.
P.P.P.S. Did you know it's really hard to do magic when you're high?
P.P.P.P.S. I think a racoonicorn got in while I was improving your throne room. Dunno where it went.
P.P.P.P.P.S. If you ever want to hate-fuck, hit me up. Just kidding... unless...?

Opaline scowled, as she trudged through the glitter on the floor over to the nearest painting. She tried to right it, but to her horror, it was stuck. Upon closer examination, it appeared as though the edges of the frame had been glued to the wall. In fact, every picture frame appeared stuck to the wall the exact same way.

She wanted to scream right then and there, but it occurred to the elderly alicorn that she might wish to save her voice. The insect had mentioned improving her throne room... If the changeling knew where she lived and where she slept, then it was quite possible that she'd left behind several cunning and deadly traps. Anonymous Flicker was toying with her, and she was making it known that she was toying with her.

Immediately, upon stepping out into the hall, the mare was filled with regret. It was bad enough just having paintings crooked... Now, not only were they crooked, but they were also defaced with marker—unflattering moustaches and monocles, mostly. Some of her paintings were just straight up moved to the ceiling. Moving down the hall was giving her such a migraine.

Let's just get this over with, she thought the moment before her hooves went out from under her. Opaline soon found herself sliding down the hall on her belly on a very fine sheet of ice. Worse, this hall opened up directly to the ramp down into her throne room, and there appeared to be no end to the ice. With a terrified yowl, she found herself shooting down the ramp at high speed, only to hit an incline that shouldn't have been there. Moments after catapulting through the air, she splashed down in the viewing pool, staring up at the ceiling.

"DAMN YOU, ANONYMOUS FLICKER!" she screamed. Directly above her, on the ceiling, Twilight Sparkle's cutie mark was spray painted. It took up damn near the entire ceiling, and to her horror, there were several empty spray paint cans just littering the floor.

Something flickered in her peripheral vision, and what sounded like two voices speaking at once rang out. "Congratulations, Opaline!" the voice said cheerfully. "You said the secret code phrase and unlocked a cool <>!"

When she looked in the direction of the voice, she was surprised to see that her throne was missing entirely. In it's place, a transparent Anon was doing a strange dance with a rather mocking expression plastered on her face. The bug was just swaying and rocking from side to side on all fours, her pristine insect wings spread wide. On one side, her legs would be extended straight out, while the others would be bent, and then she'd reverse it, causing her mane, tail, and head to bob back and forth. The worst part was the awful discordant music that seemed to be coming from nowhere.

With a shake of her head, the fire alicorn tore her eyes from the strangely hypnotic display and searched the room for some sign of her missing throne. On the wall behind the mocking illusion, she spotted a piece of paper once again nailed in to her wall. Why couldn't she just use a sticky note like a normal pony?

You might not wanna be standing in front of this paper. I'm not currently out to kill you, but I also have no idea if that super glue's actually gonna hold your throne when the anti-gravity spell cuts out. Izzy said this was some premium shit, but I figure I'd be nice and warn you... Watch out for falling thrones.
Anon

Slowly, Opaline Arcana looked up. There, sitting directly above its original resting place, was her massive stone throne. Upside down. "It's official," she muttered to herself as she officially gave up and returned to her room. "Twilight Sparkle has sent a psychopath to torture me."

Once she was through her bedroom door, she pulled on her comfy fluffy slippers and a bathrobe and excused herself to her en suite bathroom. She did her best to dry off and remove what glitter hadn't washed off in the viewing pool. It was a futile affair, to be sure. Glitter was impossible to get rid of completely.

Finally, she opted to tend to certain needs while she was there, and graced the porcelain throne. She was just so tired and done with everything, and the day hadn't even begun yet. "Why do my slippers suddenly feel wet?" As she rose from the throne, something caught her sight—light reflecting off a wet, yet transparent layer of plastic wrap covering the entire aperture. Opaline looked down at her hooves, and screamed with impotent rage.

Author's Note

Yes, Opaline has now been stickbugged by a changeling queen.

Not its usual T.U.E.S.day time slot, but I'm genuinely excited to present this one.