Author's Note

My name is Fireflower and welcome to the ninth installment of my first My Little Pony fanfic, a Mature story using canon characters as human beings: as such, I’d like to apologize for not doing much as I'd done in the past so to speak of due to the videos; nevertheless, while this chapter’s tame, the overall story will deal with heavy subject matters unsuitable for certain readers so be warned.

As always, My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to Lauren Faust and Hasbro; however, this concept of my fanfic alone belongs to me so I will say this line one time only: please do not steal this story or I will sue.

Lastly, let me also say I hope you enjoy this chapter now and stay tuned for future chapters later on: after all, you're going to be taking solace in the fact the following pattern will serve as a heads–up so to speak; besides, we've a long way to go before you can meet the rest of them but use this time to give GreenPhantomQueen a read at AO3.

Early

Darkness, in and of itself, was the only way in which how the small world works, let alone in its macrocosm named reality so to speak of; after all, it was the only equations thereof which was so relatable, both transitively and reminiscently. The jet–black void was all it could be seen but not heard, felt, tasted, or smelt; with that said, it was also sensed the very same, devoid of even a modicum of light bearing any kind of shade or hue whatsoever to permeate thru its entirety. For a moment, it’d have seemed that all was completely lost in time and space, no semblance of direction or purpose to be made as far as fate was concerned; perhaps, one could say that it was sealed and set in stone before the beginning.

Suddenly without any warning, yet as if on cue, a small gust of air blew out from parts unknown: it was brief and wide, filled with life and liberty altogether. As the echo’s reverb quickly departed from the blackened ocean, so, too, did the uncertainty of nothingness alone; sure enough, some light had appeared. Constraints were made apparent as the flat acreage had been all colored predominantly in a light brown with a singular white letter squared into the middle. Henceforth the illumination transitioned back into that of the void, only for an insignia to appear: a sword and spear so intertwined with an arrow over shield. In a matter of seconds, the fractal tube underneath had been filled up, consumed by the darkness along with the weapons overhead all the while nevertheless. Kilowatts were in use, despite the intermittent blackness since the respiration alone, especially moreso when the screen became bathed in a baby blue hue. Only then a small white rectangle appeared underneath an icon of a small hourglass within a rounded square, static yet elaborate from what was seen.

Speaking of which, a bright face was found to be staring directly at it, haggard and aged with fighting gold experience points: there was spikey brown hair worn onto its host’s head, reminiscent of troublemakers’ past yet otherwise in orderly and earthly; from what could be said about it, a straight visage had been plastered all over it, undermined by underlined star sapphires.

Following the chime, a couple of jet–black dots had appeared in a single file queue, filling up the constricted space instantaneously; afterwards, they’d subsided into the basic background as a swirling circle took center stage along a triangular polygon as well as is: out of the two objects onscreen, the latter was more than free to move around as the former was consumed by the void. At long last, the lone observer was liberated to see another background appear from the darkness in place, this time more elaborate: it was a still life image frozen in time, bearing the figures of a couple people, all of whom had stood on the green grass of home; most of them were blond, many who were up to and including maiden’s peak, far from ghostly as they were near and dear. Nevertheless, clusters of smaller icons were littering the screen before its viewer, each of which varying in name and notion alone: the only commonality that had been shown in every single one was the small size due to the very organization immediately present; as with everything else, nothing else more could be said or done about their collective placement currently so to speak of.

It was at this passing moment in time in which the white point was trailing towards one of the objects within the tiny trajectory: at first glance, it’d looked awfully a lot like an open book, its cover a darker shade than its user’s eyes and with a whitened letter; as a matter of fact, it was much more readable compared to the small horizontal lines etched and sketched in unison as is.

In any case, as soon as the small polygon had made its way over the icon in question, a soft click was heard, highlighting it in blue: in a matter of seconds, a blue rectangle had appeared onscreen, bearing more words for him to read in a similar fashion no less; of course, it was nothing in comparison to those written and spoken in the past as well as other time tenses moving forward. Overall, both eyes were treated to the sights of some similar lines here within the newfound interface presented of instantly: each of them were filled with a series of texts not to similar to what had been presented in the fleeting moments such as this; of course, they weren’t of much interest compared to what had been laying on the right side of things within eyesight nonetheless. Thereupon nearby were a small series of some sheets compared to what had been presented beforehand in mere seconds as is: most of them were far more elaborated in terms of not only text alone but in thematic variations, known and otherwise, so to speak; still, the first two were all blank as a canvas, having yet to be painted on with whatever different strokes of a brushwork. After the white pointer made its way over to the first of which therein, a rectangular prism of broken lines appeared around it; soon enough, a primarily snow–white void popped into existence for its viewer to see clear as daybreak’s bell ringing runabout: from what could be seen, the grayish fractions held steady against the void, much of these filled with smaller icons.

“Allons–y…” a soft voice escaped into the predominately still darkened area, slow and steady like a turtle yet far from stoic as both eyes fluttered about for a short while in the meantime as they were.

It didn’t even take long for the lone speaker to find some words building up within the naked space up onscreen, more corporeal by comparison:

To Whom Will Be Reading This,

I may not know you well and the same goes vice versa so let me up and introduce myself beforehand: my name is Time Turner and, as of now, my kinswoman, has yet to leave Ponyville Hospital, a Mrs. Derpy Hooves I’d recalled; of course, this isn’t without reason as from what I’d remembered, she was one of the survivors from her hometown who bore witness to the tragedy. Needless to say, I won’t go into too much detail on the account of how common knowledge it has become in the grand scheme: after all, I care for her too much to bring this up out of fear of reawakening old wounds inflicted by our own enemies so to speak; having said that, it’s rather sobering to find how easy it is to forget when so many others haven’t, let alone refuse to do so. Verily, I say, this had been only seven years since Equestria has seen war, one in which will live on in infamy and disgrace as is: it wasn’t enough for our enemies to disguise themselves as the people that we loved more innately than commonplace spies; now, it seems that the lessons in friendships are threatening to fall on deaf ears as shown in the court case about three years ago. In any case, I’d like to thank them all for teaching the youth that they must belittle those who are different and/or weird so to speak, ignoring their actions at school and home to point of letting them continue with their wicked ways, and neglecting the roles as parents, teachers, schoolmates, and/or alumni to inform, educate, and, on occasions, entertain them on what friendship means. To be frank, you may not want to believe me and I don’t blame you for having such reservations but I don’t want to be branded: enclosed is a series of audio and video recordings collected both online and offline regarding the events between then and now; failing that, you’d probably seen and/or heard them floating about wherever you live, work, and/or shop up to and including now. Either way, I’d say I hope you’re happy to see that this generation is going to have a successful life in hurting others, breaking their self–esteem, and end up being nothing more than bullies; by contrast, you may as well be satisfied in known that there are others whom are going to coast thru life hurt, broken, and bullied to the point of wanting to end their own suffering at any cost. Eventually, there will come a time, if not sooner, that you’ll have a lot to answer for premortem: is this a generation one would want to love and raise, proud to tell everyone of the relentless harassment fostered on either end to the point of running away; will you sit by and just let this continue until it all crashes and burns or, if not, what are you going to do about it besides this? Suffice it to say, I hope for your sake and that of whatever child you have between now and their precious eighteenth birthday you learn something from this and these lessons stick it to you: to, quote one senator from up north, “we want you to take care of your problems yourselves, but I hope you all walk away with one thought today that if you don’t do something about it, we will.”

Thank you, be blessed, and may Equestria be blessed.

At that point, the blue eyed brunet looked on his work, the mighty, and despair all in no short order whatsoever so to speak of: once upon a time, it’d would have been in a different language written and spoken by hand, with and without translations no less; now, it was doomed much like any and all works of famed and fortunate, from ancient rulers to contemporary dopefiends hither. Time Turner couldn’t resist spotting some green across his own visage as he’d clicked onto another icon near the active one: it was a picture of a folder colored lightly in yellow and held into place by a teal divider despite being two–dimensional like rest; either way, it was but a matter of time before a predominately white rectangle appeared before himself all the very same. Out of the couple of folders found on display, one in particular had stood out and about like a book mere radians from descent; it had a small piece of film reel nearby, prompting the brunet in question to click onto it and be greeted with a fitting sight as is: there were pictures of sad children framed in a similar fashion, alongside other similar imagery, both treacherous and not. Looking upon forlorn as they were, Time Turner was otherwise unsure, not only of the words but also himself staring at them all: compared to his writing, the iconography was more effective at sending a message as to what would be said in advance as is; of course, the difference between files was so simple and plain, anyone curious and/or criminal would figure it all out beforehand. Likewise, the blue eyed brunet had to close himself off from the small world he’d found himself in, lost in space so finite as this; as a result, the whirring and whistling about had still continued on for seconds until they’d both finally subsided all the very same: now, he was truly alone in the dark, without so much as a light or sound to guide him out of its confines compared to earlier.

“Uncle, are you in there; can you please come out…?” another voice entered his ears, this time more youthful and maidenly by mere comparison alone, “it’s lunchtime…”

“Dinky…?” a rapid retort railed on out of here.

It didn’t take long for the titular talker to tell Time Turner, “it’s 1:30, we’re waiting for you in the kitchen; uncle, are you okay…?”

“I’m sorry, Dinky, I’m fine; please wait a moment: I’ll be right with you…” the brunet uncle said at once as the bright light had shrank in so little time with but a faint thud in tow no less, “okay, T², it’s time to head back out into the real world…”

It wasn’t even long until a singular flick of a switch was heard following some small footsteps, bathing the naked space in light, instantly chasing away the darkness as it’d became identified. The ceiling alone served as the foundation of such an illumination: a spinning fan with a coiled lightbulb shined about from its glass dome mere yards away from the cluttered flooring beneath. Four partitions currently holding up the general composition were already dabbed in a salubrious coating of sepia tone wallpapering studded with its down–to–earth tones richened so to speak of. Despite the scant amounts of trash, all the planks of woods were seen to be lain out rather neatly throughout the finite dimension in spite of lacking inasmuch a coherent pattern or functionality. A pair of sapphire starry drapes were discovered to be covering up a lonely windowsill and the gateway to the outside world beyond the time and space, stagnantly unmoving as they’d hung on. Here remained a bed which was resting nearby its frame, all donned with a white comforter with jet–black sheets and pillowcase already slightly out of place yet otherwise so orderly either way. By their sides were a pair of tall dressers standing close by, sharing a matching beige schematic: the one leftmost claims a slender lamp and clock; its opposite was bare, save for a picture frame. Standing tall and proud were two white doors firmly planted in the same direction, possessing only rusted knobs with all its ashen lacquer and textures therein from what could be seen clearly.

At long last, he, being so peachy bleachy, had both of his feet firmly planted onto the solid snake groundwork like all the trees deep in the forestry. The spiky hair found on Time Turner’s scalp had barely reached the nape as there were plenty of stands way out of place as far as anyone can see. Considering the eyelids were now becoming narrowed, the uncle’s pupils were dulled and listless despite being full of life and leisure so to speak. Hereon out, his face was well rounded like high decimals, finite like the curvatures beneath the small folds of skin in darker shades nearby eyes. Onto the faintly fruity integuments, a gray shirt was buttoned downwardly to Time Turner’s light brown slacks, further past an emerald splashed tie.

Standing up straightaway, the blue eyed uncle walked towards the nearest closed door, opening it to find Dinky in his pathway almost immediately. Like himself, the secondary speaker had possessed such colorful yet bright skin as well, the only single commonality shared between the twosome. Yet, there were so many significant differences when it’d came to Dinky: besides being blonde with matching hair, she wore a frilly white dress.

“Whoa, uncle, I hope your new job didn’t interfere with your concentration; are you okay…?” the fair maiden had chirped after taking a first glance at the room abaft Time Turner nonetheless.

Looking back on it, her uncle had wasted no time replying instantaneously all the very same, “don’t worry about a thing, Dinky, it’s been a long night anyway after everything that had happened since then; by the way, how are the rest of you: did something occur while I was asleep…?”

“Not since you’d came home, uncle: they were still worried about you anyway; even now, it’s only a matter of time ‘til she does…” the eponymous eyewitness said to him as he’d started to exit the room, walking right on past her carefully in the meantime, “even aunt Fluttering can feel it too: you’d barely said a word about it recently; is there something bothering you anyway…?”

“It’s not at all serious, Dinky: I have to write a very important piece of parchment soon today and I just gotten around to filling up a whole page just recently…” Time Turner tensely talked as the hallway grew smaller and wider with every step of the way being made with the blonde maiden following after him seconds later as the lights and sounds had grown closer gradually.

It wasn’t even long until both sapphire starry orbs were facing rightward, guided by an aromatic mixture of sugar and spice emanating about. The brunet uncle could see a stovetop oven resting in between a steely appliance and a ligneous countertop with cabinets adjacently beneath. Opposite of where both feet were standing was a washbasin filled with all sorts of tableware in any variation thereof saturated with bubbles. Hobbling about, both eyes also took note of the several cabinets above the ground, equal in both storage capacities and placements altogether.

All of these details still served as the background compared to the likes of whom was standing afore himself: a lanky individual, goldeneye and feminine as Dinky but much older. Like themselves, her skin was light but much more pale in comparison, reminiscent of a dearly departed soul but furthest away from either ravenous or lifeless as Time Turner saw. Tresses of purple had made their way past the woman’s neckline, straight as an arrow yet lacking the need for war and the like from what could be seen already as they were currently. Over the elder’s middleweight body was a blue vest over her gray long–sleeved shirt and a pair of emerald splashed shorts way past both kneecaps, unable to touch her gold boots.

Now, it was time for the woman alone to speak to the brunet uncle almost instantaneously, “Time Turner, I’m so glad you’re awake: it must have been pretty lonely since you’d came home…”

“Hey, Flutter… I’m sorry about last night: I’m sure the kids had no trouble going to bed earlier, in spite of what had happened…” he’d sighed before hugging the aforementioned tenant almost immediately, a simple gesture all repaid in kind without hesitation, “come to think of it, what did you have for lunch today…?”

“Sandwiches and soups with pudding, nothing out of the ordinary so to speak…” the tall woman had answered before her body became free again at last, not that she was ever in bondage to begin with nevertheless nor should be in the now or future, known and unknown all the very same.

It didn’t even take much for Time Turner to cerebrate about, “ordinary… ordinary was simply trying to figure out the great mysteries of life, universes, and everything else: I should know because it’d not been a whole decade before either of us had gotten acquainted all the same; now, I’m starting to wonder what new woes are ready to give us cause for worry all the same…”

“Today has been the day Neighpon lays to rest their Mother Empress, Broadclyst whom had died a week ago in the midmorning…” another voice made its way throughout their ears, belonging to none of the individuals present and accounted for all the same, “this comes merely less than a fortnight away from her 100th birthday, a mere month from the start of the summer season…”

“What a time to be alive; you know it’s kind of sad now that I think about it: seven years ago, Cadance would’ve been married and live happily ever after with friends and family like her…” Flutter sighed as it didn’t even take much for the likes of her to go and follow the source of the voice in question, muffing yet still coherent so to speak of as far as anyone else was concerned.

Either way, the brunet uncle had found both feet walking back out of the room they were still in, facing the very same hallway from afore. Of course, rather than returning straight to the bedroom in question that was still alight, both eyes were still seeing darkness all throughout. Soon enough, it was clear in his very mind that a new path had to be taken up instead, a midpoint going in between the two rooms thereof.

Despite the jet–black void clearly in view, there were no signs of perturbation whatsoever as it’d lost its territory to the same properties of light as observed in one room and the other altogether. To contrast against the earthenware color schemes from earlier afore, the four walls around Time Turner were a clash between hot and cold, a battle without heart or soul as old as history itself. Looking aside, its accommodations thereof were already firmly gathered within line of eyesight a toilet, sink, mirror, cabinet, hamper, and bathtub shown nothing but utter relief instantaneously. Realizing that solitude and loneliness were at opposite ends of each other, a sigh of relief was well within departure all the same, even with the knowledge of facing the others again imminent.

It didn’t take much for the brunet uncle to rest his hand onto one of the knobs within the fixture near him; within seconds, a stream of water whistled its way down into the drain in so little time. Almost immediately, both of them found their way underneath the running faucet, catching what little of the compound into his grasp as a small yet shrinking puddle was currently being formed. Not a second to spare or strike, Time Turner’s face had become moistened with the achromatic liquid in question, no doubt the work of the very same hands alone since they were still attached.

At long last, the open grasp served as a cup for both lips to edge forward and take in the contents of the sink itself, slurping up the water instantaneously. In spite of lacking but a stable foundation sealing all ten fingers, the brunet uncle was still at ease thanks to the cooler temperatures within the compound. As far as anyone was concerned, both eyes were shut tight since he‘d felt no need whatsoever in looking at what was being done already so to speak of.

Nevertheless, the little fluids which had replenished Time Turner were far too much altogether to take in as well as too little to satiate the lunch table waiting in the other room they were in earlier ago no less. Needless to say, it was time to turn off the faucet and leave while time was of the essence: no use in keeping the others waiting for the likes of the brunet uncle so such a petty thirst as his were to be quenched. Now, it’d seemed that he was now ready to face both the maiden and matron alike in the very same area from not too long ago; after all, the scent that was picked up had served as but proof of it all like so.

As soon as both eyes were facing the doorway from before, it was now Time Turner’s turn to take in a deep breath of fresh air instantaneously, “Empress Broadclyst, of course, damn, it’s sad; how in bloody world beyond and including Equestria did it have to come to this: was it because of Princess Cadance herself dying in her own wedding or did it start far too earlier than this…? As far as I knew, the existence of changelings seemed to be far too lost to history to simply make a reappearance back in the days: no one knew what they had even looked like, not even Twilight herself and she was just right there when the bomb exploded; as a matter of fact, I’d never imagined how simplistic their reproductive capabilities can be, let alone similar to Equestrians. This is nothing more than the stuff of nightmares for all of Equestrian blood, not just in ability alone: the fact that people like Derpy and Lyra would be amongst many of their victims is just outright reprehensible and all because of their dead queen no less; even now, I still remember what it was like for Minuette to fall into promiscuity ever since that day, quitting her day job. Still, we have to put the past behind us, not just for our sake but for our loved ones: for goodness sakes, we almost lost Princess Celestia too and at the hands of terrorists no less; it wouldn’t surprise me at all if they were the reason how and why the changelings were able to blend in so well with the rest of us and here in Canterlot too…!”

Thankfully, no one else was here within range of the brunet speaker to pick up on that yet the troubled visage alone had betrayed such notions all the very same; with that said, the light abaft was then overwhelmed by darkness again, leaving him behind as footsteps were now making their way back to whence they’d came.

“Uncle, Aunt Flutter said that there’s someone at the door…!” Dinky’s voice entered his ears again, this time further away compared to the very beginning so to speak, “can you please get it for us…?”