Heartbeats Happenings Henceforth

by Fireflower

Rating: mature
Tags: Octavia, Bon-Bon, Suicide / Self Harm, Derpy Hooves, Violence, DJ P0N-3, Tragedy, Profanity, Gore, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Death, Alternate Universe, Human, Doctor Whooves, Sad
Length: 21787

A compilation of vignettes from survivors of a tragedy hitting too close to home, each of them struggling to live in different environments and deal with their daily lives, far and wide, to overcome the pain from (not too) long ago.

Equestria, the heart and soul of the world, has seen better days, in spite of the royal sisters and their shared subjects spreading their influences: the war seven years ago took its toll on both Crown and Country, so much so even its Bearers of Harmony, have been severely affected as is; of course, their stories have been already told but what many are unaware of happens to be within the backgrounds.

The suffering of many others, common and otherwise, came from the pain of war still recent on their minds, bodies, and souls considering the devastation; even those undamaged bore witness to the effects it'd on anyone and everyone, especially considering whom had carried the weight of the world: this was best reflected in its civilians in general, few of which with their own combat experiences, if any.

As such, regaining tranquility had become a central objective, especially in the eyes of those select pair of denizens: a distant scientist and his ambiguous relative, two musicians representing their expanding contemporary genres, and two lovers damaged, directly and otherwise interchangeably; these are the lives and times of the broken individuals forever effected by the war, just as those afore and after.

In spite of their differences between one another keeping themselves apart, as well as due to alongside their similarities, being nearly destroyed years ago because of said war and its following aftereffects have left them with stories to show and/or tell.

NOTE: Although it also takes place at the same timeframe as War Orphans' Wishes, it's best recommended to start reading Ocular Spectral Therapy first for the sake of continuity before jumping into any other story on one's own free will(power) and time.

Published 2023-12-01 05:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-10-20 09:26:16 UTC

Early

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…?”

Terminal

Author's Note

It's Fireflower again with the ninth installment of my first My Little Pony fanfic going beyond the typical oneshots I'd made from before and already using canon characters as human beings instead of their normal forms; however, this is nonetheless a Mature fimfic despite this chapter being tame compared to future ones.

In addition, I would like to take this time to confess that this nightmare was based on an idea I'd formulated regarding him: originally, 'twas gonna be something straight outta Regular Show and Gravity Falls, episode Sleep Cycle and Blendin's Game; as a matter of fact, it was also influenced by that arcade game, Motor Raid, one I'd never gotten to play.

As My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to Lauren Faust and Hasbro, some characters appearing from other media don't belong to me at all either, not to mention they're real people featured to; however, only this concept, my fanfic still belongs to me so I'll say this once: please do not steal this story or I will sue.

Terminal

All throughout the way, there was an abysmal unknown of complete blackness where only such factors of sight, sound, substance, scent, and sentiment lay buried inside those obscurities a void. The exceptions which had given clues to the very location’s identity were surface and sensitivity: such was the gentle breezes being close to comfort anyone whom would cross pathways in life. Most importantly, its current occupancy was a cut above from simple desolation row, let alone abandoned; after all, there were few colors in many caliginous shades and hues with silent cries.

All through this hour
Lord, be my guide
that by Thy power
no foot shall slide

A baritone chimed diminutively, backed up by a series of chimes ringing inwardly before they’d stop, turn, take a look around at all the lights and sounds, letting them be brought in: a slow burn, let it all fade out, pull the curtain down and wonder where they’ve been.

Out of many, one screen in particular had illuminated itself, presenting a long list of white text on a jet–black background below with an arrow nearly at the top of it all:

TEST MENU

MEMORY TEST

T.G.P. TEST

INPUT TEST

OUTPUT TEST

SOUND TEST

C.R.T TEST

GAME ASSIGNMENTS

COIN ASSIGNMENTS

VOLUME SETTING

BOOKKEEPING

BACKUP DATA CLEAR

EXIT

SELECT WITH SERVICE BUTTON
AND PRESS TEST BUTTON

“Alright, this is a recording of an observation test for the new arcade game, Terminal Velocity, courtesy of our Fareast friends…” the same voice from before said, this time slow and steady as a fresh pair of eyes appeared overlooking the interface already, “I thought I just use this one because many of them in the joint happen to use the same system board anyways, Model Duo. So, how this is gonna work is this – I’m going to play a whole session of levels on Practice with character of my own choosing: today, I’m going to be selecting some other guy named Time all of the sudden, nothing like the others on the roster in question; I’ll confess, I could never even get the appeal behind him all of the sudden, especially seeing how convoluted his universe is. Hell, my friends, Mike and Jane usually avoid motorbike machine operators generally, especially considering how they’re fragile: she prefers horses and he usually keeps things to himself, not the type of winning combination between the three of us if at all; if anything, I’m taking one for my boss Ralph who doesn’t get in until the evening, though I have reason that he’ll retire soon. Either way, let’s get this show on the road and see what this machine can do for me today before the kids show up come opening: at the very least, it’s a safe bet that the cabinet should be working fine as such, considering how new it’d been according to them; of course, nothing ruins a reputation than an establishment with broken toys so I’m to report any glitches and gunges.”

‘SOUND INITIALIZING!!!’ was all that had been read as soon as the arrow near the top had scrolled downward, no doubt the work of the observer so to speak of; at the very least, the text became more scarce than before but otherwise quiet all the same, much to speaker’s delight as far as there was cause for concern nonetheless.

It wasn’t long until the darkness was chased away by something old, new, borrowed, and blue, already in synched for a big day: most of the space was occupied by a crest in a predominately darker shade and with words as white as the previous text no less; the one anomaly was a sentence in yellow without punctuation below reading, ‘WINNERS DON’T USE DRUGS’.

“And here’s the intro right there…” the baritone eyewitness droned as a quartet of brass letters spun around, bearing more life then what had been read recently as they were; accompanying them was a synth beat with a patterned bass around a series of subdued chimes before they were swallowed by a blue summers’ legato as they arranged themselves into blue on white, “SEGO!”

The music began to emit around its observer, a longer and steadier road ahead compared to what would be seen at long last as is: a pair of scramblers up and running as they were sharing the same color but not its riders from what could be even told, if at all; not only that, most of the screen was obscured by more text, this time with numbers and faces, the latter grayscale on red.

Another song played after cutting from black, this time showing a similar environment being explored by similar machinery: not only that, its operators proved to be rather aggressive towards each other, attacking each other with a variety of weapons; all the while, more letters had formed against the encroaching darkness, its multicolor action inside becoming solidified blood oranges.

“TERMINAL VELOCITY…!” another voice buzzed from the screen, this time more mechanical as if it were from a clockwork orange, devoid of both wrongness and humanity alike from what the baritone listener had heard: before both eyes was a skull underneath the words with all the blood and guts it’d already entailed, fresh as fruit but devoid of bats and flies in the meadows.

In an instant, a button was pressed and soon the title screen had cut to black, this time with a sight of a vehicle and a person: the former was colored in pretty pink pause of pain and panic with a shimmery set of letters attached in clear white no less; the latter, fully armored head–to–toe in deep purple lacking in identity, save for a maidenly face in green and a name: ‘Starlight’.

“At least Chel would’ve enjoyed the girl power aesthetic; after all, it seems that they were smart enough to include females…” the observant eyewitness commented before shifting gears to and fro, landing on a midnight motorcycle with its jade rider, “of course, Time will have to do; it’s funny seeing her and Twilight in the very same game no less: they almost lookalike to me as is.”

“Allons–y…!” a higher octave echoed into the baritone listener, belonging to the aforementioned character in question, now sitting down.

Either way, the corporeal eyewitness was taken to a screen of a sizeable solar system, if one could even call it that as is; there were only two options at this point, far less compared to the list of people presented and accounted for previously on: a Championship race on the leftward side and Practice run at its linear opposite, the latter of which was chosen in a fraction of a heartbeat.

“It’s amazing how we’d never left our dreams of space to stop at the moon, yet live in a day and age they’d call it all a hoax…” the baritone entrant had said, a series of planets, asteroids, and colonies now in full view, each with their own set of information, “oh well, maybe if I’d want to, then I could invite Arnie over for an old–fashioned race between us two guys, mano a mano…”

“Sugino, get ready…” buzzed the machine as its operating eyewitness was treated to a still image of a winding road underneath two statues; soon, it’d taken center stage as less than a dozen racers lined up in a series of twin horizontal rows, all side–by–side with each other: amongst them was the chosen character himself, his back facing toward the screen as far as the former could see.

The baritone entrant had studied the interface briefly as a small countdown appeared right on into the middle of it so to speak: an unlined grid with arrows on the left, a speedometer at the lower right corner, and a small gauge beneath on the opposite end; of course, it was time to race as well as that for commentary to a lesser extent, “you know at this rate, it’s just a bit too soon. My friend’s shift had just ended minutes ago and he’s probably in the bathroom taking a dump after all these hours on the job; of course, this is actually a common occurrence with many like him ever since that pizza joint came to be a few decades ago: if anything, Jer started out in a different location just as the eighties were coming to an end along with this franchise as it were. Much of this space colony reminds me of that track from that video game on that console from overseas, but so does the others; nevertheless, it’s amazing as to how they were able to get away with this, seeing how stringent they’re about with copyright law: all those romhacks may seem to be rumors but so was that porn parody some plagiarist peddled about before they’d stopped him. Anyways, this is going to be a short one since there are about four laps around the track, each only lasting about thirty seconds: to be honest, this could only be accessed on the Championship mode when the player got all the gold medals in every track as is; every other course is limited in color palette, especially when you consider how often you get to race around in a place like this. Still, it’s very fascinating as to how this could’ve been named Rig with all the sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows found; at the very least, there should be at least a pink fluffy unicorn or two on this course standing out amongst the colors within it: shame they couldn’t afford to put the song in the track, even without the lyrics, since it’d distract people from the gameplay alone.”

“Is there anybody out there that woke up with a bitter taste: can you hear me; can you help us…?” a voice spoke out, just as organic as the operative eyewitness but muzzled by a static mesh as is, “we know you would be coming for us, Sly: you’re getting closer, we see that; your brother’s also coming for us. We want to leave, we’re ready to hold you: save us, the 256…!”

“What the hell, since when does this arcade cabinet know about my brother, let alone my name: it’s been a long time coming since I’d played the damn thing and even that was at the old mall; how exactly did this game learn about it in such a short amount of time no less…?” exclaimed the titular observer, both eyes widening in shock and awe at what had been said aloud.

In any case, Time was already on the move, zigging and zagging harder than a hypersexual hybrid in a skimpy attire, if any; that being said, he was still protected by the armor, worn out faces its eyes onto the rainbow road of solid snake and liquid ocelot: judging from the interface, he was fast enough to climb the ranks in so little time but several paces away from taking first.

At the very least, the muffled voice spoke to the baritone eyewitness once again, this time more clearer and erratic from what the latter’s ears can hear so to speak of, “let’s start today; what are you going to say: that this is all a bad dream? It’s real, just like you and me so you should know that; your brother cannot live alone this way: you’d helped him bring the machine in here and that is a fact so please don’t try denying that. Sly, if you want recognition for your brother, then you must accomplish one goal for us: something has trapped us all in here and we need to get out of here; you can help us with this. Our bodies are still in the software and we can’t leave without you: go to IMCOM when you get your day off; there’s an ally who can help us all with our predicament – his name is Eugene Rua, he’s an old friend of ours from way back in the day a decade ago so his credentials are solid.”

“Okay, this is getting a little weird: I was supposed to do a beta test of the game today; instead, it knew my name all of the sudden…” the eponymous operator huffed as the character was on his final lap, mere kilometers away from the leading motorcyclist upfront, “thankfully, this lap will be over soon enough: all I have to do right now is win and then some; after that, bathroom…!”

True to the words of its baritone speaker, Time had finally taken over as the leading racer on this technicolor track named Sugino: as such, it wasn’t long until the latter was now approaching the finish line dead ahead with mere seconds on the clock high above; the roaring of the winning thrust howled from the machine, much to the delightful relief of the former despite everything.

“Finish… winner…!” droned the machine’s synthetic announcer as Sly’s character was blazing throughout the track all by his lonesome, no longer needing any further input whatsoever; by that point, the visage was more detailed now that the viewpoint had changed at long last, never again with back literally turned towards the camera directly and its viewer by extension so to speak of.

Even though they were simplified, Time’s voice shouted out at a lower volume than expected as he were, more rigid compared to the likes of his baritone operator before brief intervals replayed, “Canteries and Shobnall can both kiss my pasty white arse for all I care…!”

“Damn, I wasn’t expecting this from the likes of him: he always kind of struck me as the quiet type of man, not a mad lad pad…” whispered Sly as the sight of the character walking away from the screen in a void has simply entered the former’s viewpoint, “maybe I should try entering a different name, just in case like Gab or Tan; at the very least, it’d work as it should…”

‘SLY’ was all that could be said, despite its smooth operator spelling otherwise if one could even call it an attempt so to speak of: it wasn’t as if honesty was meant to be avoided at any cost whatsoever, at least over something simple as a name to be entered; still, all that happened was it’d rested on the top of a list similar to the one from the very beginning, now with three letters.

Either way, a monochromatic circularly elaborate reticule appeared as the backdrop to another scene with bass beats hissing on: nobody was in the crosshairs, be if the characters like Time for example or the likes of its aforementioned player altogether; nevertheless, eight letters in orange flew into the middle, all of which were capitalized as they’d been read together, ‘GAME OVER’.

Parental Advisory Warning

the screen now said as the blackness made a comeback, this time with more color than in the beginning as they were already a blood red

This game is classified
LANGUAGE – STRONG
LIFE – LIKE VIOLENCE – STRONG

“Maybe my eyes are starting to go bad already, even moreso than Ralph and he’s older than any of us; I should go to the bathroom and check to see if Mike’s okay, at least before he leaves this joint today: his shift doesn’t begin again ‘til midnight and who knows what else happens then…” said the baritone observer so to speak of as far as both eyes could see it all play out again as it is.

It wasn’t long until Sly had started vacating from the machine already when before the title screen popped up, it’d cut to black once again, albeit for a brief moment in history nevertheless: in the meantime, some words had popped up yet the speakers were silent all the same

YOU LIED TO HIM, BASTARD.
WE THOUGHT OUR LIVES WERE PRICELESS
YOU USED OUR LIVES TO ENTRAP MORE PEOPLE.
YOU FOOLED FATHER TO ENTRAP US.
YOU FOOLED EVERYONE ELSE TO TRAP US.
FIRST, I HATED FATHER, HE WAS YOUR MINION.
BUT NOW I UNDERSTAND. HE IS DOING THIS ONLY
BECAUSE HE IS SCARED FOR HER. HE CANNOT
DISOBEY YOU, BECAUSE YOU CAN KILL HER.
YOU ROTTEN MONSTER. SOULLESS ARCHFIEND.
YOU ARE NOT OUR DADDY.

WE HATE YOU, AND THEY HATE YOU TOO.

Of course, everything went back to normal as it were, with and without the input of any operator, smooth and/or otherwise so far: sure, a brief tutorial here and some exposition there had all wormed their ways into the changing pattern seen and unseen before; either way, nothing much else happened since its baritone eyewitness took a leaf of absence in the light and variable winds.

“What the hell were you talking about: something straight out of TOD’s lineup of shows; how long has it been since the special?” another voice entered the area of influence, a balance of octaves between Sly and one of the chosen characters from the game, “maybe you should go back to the mountainside; at the very least, the reception is poor enough as it is for television…”

“Mike, I’m serious, I know what I saw and I caught it all on tape: the second I’d started to play, the game started to talk to me like I was some old acquaintance at the city mall; they even knew my brother’s name all of the sudden, he barely plays any video games whatsoever like me…!” the baritone eyewitness said as the quantity of footsteps have doubled since the fateful return.

It wasn’t even long enough until the titular tenant had begun replying to Sly as both sets of eyes were also facing the very machine that the latter had been using not too earlier ago so to speak, “oh, right, and you’re going to tell me that this machine also contains the soul of a dead child murdered way back a decade ago when arcades started to peak; well, you’re dreaming man…! You know what I call this, a good start to ask yourself the question of how much is that doggie in the windowpane friend; better yet, I think our old man Ralph would probably be asking you something more pertinent than that: how can you be really sure you’re not a puppet rather than a person, Sly…?”

“I have a camera so I know what I’d seen; failing that, the audio recording alone should prove that I’m still all there beforehand…” the baritone operator had rebutted, both firmly unaware of the screen flickering in and out of the blackness as it’d before altogether, “should this be enough for you to show that I’m not crazy; after all, what about our friendship: why throw it all away?!”

“Tell you what, I still have some energy to spare in time before I clock on out of the door: if I race you then and there, then will you give it a rest already; I thought I was the crazy one but what do you suppose management is going to say, with and without our old buddy Ralph vouching for us…?” the raspier counterpart began to state after a whole minute has passed between themselves as is.

Sly couldn’t resist as the cabinet was within their shared line of sight alongside its duplicate near, something Mike also noticed: at the very least, the former was apprehensive but otherwise calm and collected like a glass jar of dill pickles inside the fridge; either way, an answer was given to the latter, “why not…? At least you’ll get your eight hours of sleep before they call you back in tonight; I just hope whatever it is I’d seen wouldn’t follow me into dreamland tonight: my wife would freak if I’d told her all about it…”

“Not mine, although she’d probably wished I hadn’t watched that documentary of that fucking matricide of all people no less…” the gruffer colleague chimed at midpoint, walking straight over to the machine the baritone operative had been on recently, “to think he was with that guy who killed that detective’s kid, even I wouldn’t make a joke about any of it, let alone hear it…”

“That goes double for me: they’re both assholes, especially that guy; anyways, let’s just get this over with and be done with it while we still can…” Sly said before returning to the cabinet at long last so to speak of; however, upon doing so, the splash screen showed itself to be different, at least compared to Mike: rather than clean brass, it transitioned from bloodstained to blood red.

Another thing the baritone player had witnessed was a different motorcyclist holding up a slim drainpipe firmly in grasp as is: even though the resolution was low, a malicious smile was found to be plastered about out on its vermillion background alone; by contrast, the guttural observer was treated to the sight of one with a finger on the trigger pointing away from the latter anyway.

Although both machines had predominately emerald splashed text in the middle, Sly could only see it all with squibs and guts lightly assorted as if it were just straight out of a textbook; soon enough, it was only but a matter of time until they’d both said squeaky cleanly, ‘2 PLAYERS ENTERED!’

“I’m going with George since he seems to be a proper fit: who wouldn’t want to go to space after everything that happened…?” Mike said as an eponymous man in white armor was now hopping onto the vehicle without complaint as far as he saw it, “who are you going with: Mr. Peabody or something…?”

“Hopefully someone different, if this damned thing will let me; it’s stuck on Time no matter what I do…!” the baritone operative had replied in contempt as the character from before popped up afore the former altogether.

Not only that, the star system afore both of them had found themselves staring at a familiar location from not too long ago: in the raspy operator’s mind, it was just as clean as the time Sly had selected, bereft of problems and the like all the very same; however, the color scheme was warmer and more coagulating, especially in regards to the scenery in question to the latter as is. Eventually, the baritone eyewitness was also treated to the sight that was unlike his first sortie or that of Mike altogether nevertheless: the sky was darker enough to resemble early morning hours and the ground was more colorful than ever before by contrast; either way, the former was still undeterred, at least as far as the latter was concerned considering how nothing much happened. What did happen was that both players were now off to a great start, despite, as well as because of, their differences in performing: Sly could see the terrain wet and messy than ever before while the gruffer colleague remained steady upon the pulsating rhythm; even if the latter took a brief glance at the former’s side, it was all the same within those cold yet lively eyes either way. The baritone racer couldn’t help other than to wince at the sight of offences committed against competitors like, and unlike, Time: though the latter’s weapon was a paper fan, the force applied to any nearby motorcyclist with it sent them flying away all the same; however, the former’s ears were assaulted by a series of crunches, small and otherwise along with some sobbing in the mix.

The music stayed the same for both parties as not a single beat was out of sync for either of them, something that rang in; of course, Sly couldn’t take his mind out of the gutter filled with the waters and leaves all clogged up inside the process: this was due to the character in blue crying, “just stop it now, just stop it… no, just stop it please…! Why can’t you stop it now…?!”

“Mike, are you hearing this: it sounds like tears but we’re the only one in the establishment; what’s going on already…?” the baritone operator had asked to the aforementioned competitor, already awestruck at the abnormalities amongst them, “this machine had no problems before yet I’m hearing someone crying all the same…”

“Well, I’m sorry to say this but it’s going to be you…!” the guttural go–getter growl as George slammed into Time with so much speed it was now the latter’s turn to fall down and meet ground; however, there was no getting back up as far as Sly could now see, thankful enough to finish in second yet perturbed by in which the former was now in first place all the very same.

It wasn’t long until the orange letters appeared before the two of them and differences were more apparent all the very same as is: Mike saw his character standing in the middle of a screen upon a platform whereas the baritone competitor found the same spiral; nevertheless, they’d already clearly said, at least from the latter’s viewpoint once again, ‘GAME OVER’.

Froth

Author's Note

It's Fireflower yet again with the seventh installment of my first My Little Pony fanfic still going beyond the typical oneshots I'd made from before and already using canon characters as human beings instead of their normal forms; however, this is nonetheless a Mature fimfic despite this chapter also being tame compared to future ones.

As usual like before, 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 still belongs to me so I will say this very line one time only: please do not steal this story or I will sue.

Lastly, let me also say that I'd planned this chapter to have Derpy take center stage without being a repeat of certain evens: since, I'd wasted so much time with the past chapters, this wasn't easy for me to get it over, especially since she barely spoke; either way, I'm kinda glad that I've been able to finish this at long last so to speak of, even knowing what I wrote.

Froth

A sky full of silver linings were soon etched about, swirling over the earth in its broken patterns as patches of some blue were breaking dawn without a care. A flock of birds in various sizes and shades soon soared so serenely, not even gravity dared to pull any of them down towards the solid plane of existence. A small civilization was starting to carry on with its own lives and times, living and breathing around their happy little abodes topped off with so much hay. All pedestrians were being greeted with an abundance of some calm gentle breezes currently surfing across from the grassy knolls and to parts unknown. Aside from the town itself were a nearby forestry with a road as its guide and smoky mountains raging with growth and erosion from the trying times therein.

Out of the many traversing about in this here environment, there were but a pair of pedestrians in particular whom were standing out and about in the dense atmosphere before themselves sniffed: not much whatsoever could ever be said about the two in question, except for the fact they were none other than Dinky and Flutter all dressed up in similar attire as the ones worn much earlier.

Residing before the lonely individuals was an enormous building residing in the very outskirts of the town presently. It’d reached high as at least three stories tall with a pair of stone chimneys stretching upward as they were isolated. The very roofing had possessed a style similar to the likes of many residences within the adjacent area but with wood. Hanging over from the very entrance was a big red circle with four pink hearts, sequestered by a large whitely cross. Surrounding it already were such countless windowpanes made of the same material and shape but in variety as is. All which had remained out there were but a pair of olive doors resting underneath an awning up in front of the trail.

“So I guess there’s no turning back from this: your uncle is still subbing for that summer school teacher anyway; perhaps, once we get back home, he’d be surprised to see her again, right…?” the eldest of the two females had spoken up after taking in a long drag of oxygen from their very own surroundings.

Almost immediately, they’d soon traversed throughout the partition afore themselves, greeted by a sight cuts above than whatever stones could’ve been thrown. All of the ceilings were painted in a brownish shading style; many all separated into intersecting but otherwise equal lines with domed lanterns into the mixture. Every single wall within the room the lonely individuals had entered were but a lighter hue than the brilliant green left behind in the outside world abaft therein. The beige flooring underneath was interspersed with some set of teal carpeting which had looked like it been purchased at a bargain prior to becoming cleansed. Every geometric corner nearby the entrance was occupied by a potted plant with an abundance of leaves so spacious to cover all the many kinds of footwear here. It could also be seen by the very visitors that many others were sitting on olive colored chairs, either becoming amongst the well–adjusted or under the weather.

Out of the many within their collective eyesight, Flutter came across another pair of women standing out and about a few yards away from her and Dinky themselves nearby a desk as is. Unlike the outsiders walking in, they were nurses with likenesses in fair dignity, possessing commonalities between the latter pair such as darker complexions and somber emotions already. Still, the workers in question had some significant differences between each other that even the young maiden in question was quick on the uptake to acknowledge so instantaneously altogether. Their uniforms alone were similar but not the same, at least as far as the nurses were concerned: one, a dark heavyset in prim plum with blue eyes; another, bright, lanky, snood, blue, and jaded.

The eldest of the visitors watched as the harlequin worker holding up a clipboard with a left hand lock eyes as the latter’s bulky counterpart greeted the former group almost immediately no less, “good afternoon, miss Fluttering; we’ve been expecting you: Derpy Hooves has been waiting to be discharged from the hospital since she’d woken up…”

“We know that: my brother Time has relayed us both the message about a week ago regarding the situation at hand after all…” the titular traveller told as she’d held firm before the two nurses all the same, more than what could be said about the former’s grip, “how is she by the way: has she made a full recovery this week…?”

“For the most part, yes though at the same time she may as well need her bedrest and fluids for the next two weeks ahead; as a matter of fact, Mrs. Hooves must take some medication to help her get some sleep at night in the meantime so to speak…” the nurse in yellow had quickly answered the pale skinned individual soon enough, now already at ease so to speak of.

It didn’t take much for the likes of Dinky herself to look around briefly before turning back to face the purple coated coworker, “is my mommy going to be okay…? I don’t want her to be sad again after what happened: I miss her and so does my aunt and uncle; even my father has been writing letters to her since he’d been imprisoned years ago. I’ve been writing to mommy as well and so has uncle Turner; we were both hoping she would be able to come home again after what had been told to us months ago: even now, we’re all still anxious about her all the same, especially regarding her condition…”

“She’ll be okay, little one: her resolve is far stronger than she thinks it is; after all, they’d told me about what happened back there…” the bulky nurse replied softly as her star sapphires starred back into the young maiden’s amber with a somber gaze altogether as is, “it’d been real difficult for the lot of us ever since the war came to our shoreline years ago especially with Canterlot.”

“You don’t need to remind us of this, Nurse Sweetheart; after all, the Princesses were pretty shook up about what had happened to their loved ones: Celestia feared a relapse from her sister Luna on the account of losing her niece Cadance, just after hearing about Twilight Sparkle…” Flutter had said as Dinky looked downward already.

It didn’t take much for the likes of the yellowy harlequin to chime in mirthlessly so to speak of, “I was told it was sabotage when she was rushed to the hospital on that day: someone sat her up a bomb in what used to be the town’s old library; apparently, Twilight was digging up something for an impending court case. Seems to me whatever she’d stumbled across had been more than enough to give some the bright idea to go on ahead and do it; this was as far as I was about to learn about until we were given orders to evacuate from Ponyville about the week after: it seems that Princess Celestia was real desperate enough to get her and many of her kind out of here in case the war got fierce enough. Perhaps what was really catching me off–guard was how she was able to recover so fast in such short notice altogether as is: the last time Twilight got injured, it was all because of some heavy objects falling from the sky, stuff that would’ve easily kilt; failing that, she would’ve been crippled for life, especially since we’d her sent out by wheelchair per the Princess’ request. Come to think of it, this was only mere months before the whole war ended up coming to our homeland directly so to speak: at this point, we’d never gotten any word whatsoever in regards to what had happened with either her friends or classmates; of course, one exception in particular was none other than Swain himself and he was killed in the surprise attack leading up to it all. After that, many of us were forced to evacuate the patients from this hospital and gather as many supplies needed for the long trip; although Canterlot had plenty of spare rooms in their facilities, not everyone ended up there directly, let alone in one day as is: last I’d heard, Fillydelphia still has patients of ours whom have yet to leave the city, much less return here, alive and otherwise.”

“Well, it seems to me that your own hospital wasn’t even the only one whom had made a hasty call in retrospect, no offense…” the eldest visitor replied as far as the rest of the females were concerned all the same, taking a brief glance at the scenery, “even medical personnel from Appleloosa had to leave for Dodge Junction since they were still in their infancy with projects.”

“Everyone, sorry to intrude on the conversation but the patient’s ready to be discharged now: miss Derpy Hooves will be leaving the hospital now, I’d just gotten her out of the bath earlier…” another maidenly voice had escaped within their collective earshot, clearly belonging to none of the quartet as of yet.

This was more than enough to have the foursome look onward to find yet another pair of women approaching them now this time: like Flutter and Dinky whom had both entered the domain, they were brightly skinned with eyes wearied from the worldly weight; however, just as much like themselves and the two nurses they’d seen not long ago, there were many significant differences. To begin and end with, one was in a same uniform, much like the coworkers in question, already wearing leaf green locks in the same bun as her heavyset correspondent albeit with but solidarity; the other, was like the youngest maiden, out of perhaps many, like, and unlike, her in question, albeit aged as the accompanying matron whom been in association dressed in tan, boots and all.

Though Derpy was currently in the area being pushed towards the quartet, both figuratively and especially literally thanks to the third nurse in question, the sight of the former in a wheelchair was more than enough for the likes of Dinky to spring into action at long last, wrapping both arms around the flesh and fabric over the latter’s target with a bittersweet greeting, “mommy…!”

“Dinky… I’m so glad to see you again; I wish that the others could’ve been there with you as we’d have wanted: I know he’d…” the restrained mother had said to her dear daughter almost instantaneously before stopping in place with a saddened sigh as is, “anyways, how’s your uncle Turner, is he doing well for himself…?”

“Mm–hmm, he’d been taking up a substitute teacher role to put food on the table like he did a few years ago; although, we’d all been worried about what has been happening lately ever since midterms had ended…” Dinky answered Derpy rather immediately, breaking away from the hug the former had recently initiated all the same.

It wasn’t even long until Flutter was quick to join back into the conversation, this time with the eldest blonde locked on into the former’s sight, “Time Turner’s been trying to get you out of this place since your fifth year in the facility; apparently, I, too, was worried about what it has been doing to you following the war anyways: not only that, Ponet’s been sending letters to us also…”

“Yeah, I heard… I’m still feeling sorry for the others I’d met who can’t or won’t leave, if at all, at least not yet so to speak of…” Derpy spoken back to her colorful double, the former’s eyes more dull and listless as they were both strabismic by comparison, “Applejack still won’t set foot out of this place, Rarity’s been out of the operation, and Twist still can’t even see me at all…”

“Dinky told me about her and the rest of their friends from school, like she did back in the past; honestly, it’d made me sick back then and still does to this day as to what it’d done to them: nightmares and trauma should have no place in a child’s mind, body, or soul, not then, not now…!” Flutter snarled as she’d looked further away from the aforementioned youth in question.

The bound mother had started sniffling about, looking down at her own attire with a melancholic gaze as they were started to become attacked by constricted downpours established freeformly, “oh, Sparkler, what have I done to you to deserve this; why did they have to torture you in your last moments…?”

“In any case, here’s some Erobad for Derpy: it’s been used decades ago as an experimental way to deal with most complex trauma…” the green haired nurse declared as a small bottle was retrieved from the pocket of the jacket still being wore onto its owner’s body, “the formula may have changed over the decades since but it’s still the only option left now that he’s persistent…”

“I guess brotherman is still worried about her after all these years and I can’t even blame him: our sister’s been a broken bird ever since that accident in her youth a little over few decades ago; now, it seemes with schoolhouse rock becoming harder on him, Time Turner’s ticking away…” said the violet haired substitute with the item in question now in her hands all the very same.

Needless to say, the middleweight in uniform was quick to tell the visitors and Derpy almost instantaneously so to speak of, “in either case, I’d recommend making sure she takes this every night before bedtime so to speak: it’s a very strong medication and it’d been in the trial runs ever since the war had ended; it was almost on its way out to the public before the place was attacked. Nonetheless, the surviving scientists said it was a good call that they were forced to suspend the project lately during the invasion: considering the development, they’ve had to reconsider the potential options on the off–chance of something going wrong as is; as a matter of fact, many were worried that this would end up falling into enemy hands as many things would altogether. Still, even I’ve had my doubts about this concoction being used as medicine now, with or without Brander’s Law in effect: considering the use and its side–effects thereof, I couldn’t help myself but to think of what it’d be done to their users such as her; after all, as one southern man had said, ‘between the drugging and the lying, somebody has to show some gotdang integrity!’”

“Who hasn’t in this day and age no less…?” the lightweight nurse had had jumped back into the conversation once more, this time a little irate than she were so long ago, “if anything, drug–runners are nothing new lately, especially when you consider the main reasons why in general; as a matter of fact, the real problem is how they’ve been making it in their own homes and gardens. It’s rather safe to say that at least we’re not stuck in the past several centuries when people can sell them for goods and services: at the very least, we didn’t have to worry about going to war over them, let alone lose it all ‘cause of their superior firepower; you don’t even want to know what living in opium den would be like all day everyday, especially considering how dingy it is. Nowadays, it’s not just larger countries pushing drugs onto other small countries just to force them into opening up trade ports: other smaller organizations, both legitimate and otherwise, are buying and selling the means to push poison out onto the streets; we see this in the movies with cartels stealing land just to make more and hear more of that on the radio about some rolling lab. Not only that, anyone looking to cause problems for other people can just simply slip something into someone’s drink and/or food so they can wait for them to just be weakened and be no more: it’s no wonder why that law exists now ever since that scholar in Canterlot almost overdosed on these salts – after everything that had happened since the war, this was rather enough as it were. In addition, we had to deal with Princess Luna making a major fuss over what had happened in Peachtree Acres a few years ago: to think they were used in a revenge plot to harrass and humiliate a bunch of outcasts only to turn into an insane lethal conclusion; even her own sister, Celestia, was at a lost for words on what came next, especially with what that boy’s doing now. Needless to say, the worst they could do to them was to strip their entire province they were all in of the opportunity to compete; humiliating as it was, the punishment they came up with together was more merciful than either of them could do by themselves: stuff like this either ended up with a full–scale war between empires or total annihilation of a few cities altogether. Generally speaking, almost all of those adolescents at the avenue got off lightly since they weren’t even adults at the time; that being said, I can’t imagine, much less dream, what it’d be like to even live here, knowing they’ll not be inside the Games: sure, their citizens can come visit but being unable to compete altogether is like not being able to teach shop for bringing in tools. Suffice it to say, it’s amazing we haven’t been taken over by any narcocracies in this day and age or, worse yet, transmutated as is; of course, it’s sobering when you realize how many countries and their subjects struggle to get out of the drug trade all at once: Sanguine had gone from being a major player in the Iorian job to so irate anti–drug they’ll wipe out any gang smuggling them.”

“At least the medication isn’t illegal since people like her will need it; nevertheless, we must pay attention to the instructions to the letter as is: even Derpy’s eye problem has been a staying point, no offense, sister…” Flutter exhaled as she’d quickly studied the text printed on the bottle within her grasp so to speak of.

Sure enough, it was now time for Nurse Sweetheart to tag back into the otherwise simplistic tête–à–tête between herself and the slimmer chaperone all the very same as they all were no less, “in any case, you won’t have to keep coming to and from the hospital during visiting hours now: Derpy Hooves is all yours now, girls; just make sure she gets her bedrest and fluids at home…”

“We will, we need to; we should be lucky that sister gets to go back today after all these years no less, even after all of this mess…” Flutter said just as her eponymous sister had ended up being wheeled further closer to both the former and the latter’s daughter, “besides, Time Turner won’t be back for another few more hours so this should come as a surprise for him all the same now.”

“I know…” the green haired individual sighed.

Just then, a rather loud klaxon had suddenly blared into all of their very ears without so much as a warning whatsoever so to speak: this was more than enough to catch the sextet off–guard, especially Dinky whom had to cover her own with both hands instantly; needless to say, her guide was quick to rush both her and their shared kinswoman further away from the three nurses.

Out of the trio which had stayed behind, the one in green asked almost immediately in spite of the noise in question all the same, “what’s going on…?”

“I can’t say for sure: last time in particular, Applejack cut herself banging the table during visiting hours all of the sudden…” the yellowy harlequin answered as she was now the first to head off into the very same area their colleague had originated from, “who knows what in the world could it be all about this time around: some anaphylactic shock or even neurosthenia…?!”

“Either way, we can’t let the visitors get exposed to this, directly and otherwise; get them out thru the entranceway and make sure that they vacate the premises before we lockdown again…!” Nurse Sweetheart said following after their coworker unquestionably, her blue eyes now troubled by the sudden change in pace altogether now.

As the brighter trio were now deep inside of the hospital, another voice had suddenly echoed throughout the hallway, this time coming from the speakers themselves rather than any of the people alone, “LOCKDOWN PERIOD IS NOW IN EFFECT: ALL VISITORS ARE TO VACATE THE PREMISE IMMEDIATELY; REENTRY WILL NOT BE PERMITTED…!”

Speaking of which, the small family of civilians were now back into the outside world alongside with many like, and unlike, them: despite being further away from the entrance in question, they could still hear the loud noises all the same, albeit at a lower decibel; out of the slowly growing crowd in and out of control, the youngest of them all in particular was starting to cry at long last.

“Mommy, I don’t like this noise at all: it’s too loud and reminds me of those air raids; not even sis’ been alive to hear them…!” Dinky fell down onto her knees planted upon the grass, still covering up both ears the second that klaxon had invaded their ranges, “DON’T ABANDON ME, PLEASE; DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH YOUR OWN KILLERS, I BEG YOU…!”

“Dinky, please, calm down…!” Flutter pleaded.

It was to little avail as the young maiden finally surrendered to the solid earth underneath their feet as she was on her left side, shuddering and panting about as her goldeneyes were shut away, “I DON’T WANT TO DIE, I DON’T WANT TO DIE, I DON’T WANT TO DIE, I DON’T WANT TO DIE…!”

“Hey, what in the world was going on: what all that commotion, did they find another terrorist among us once again…?!” yet another voice, this time more masculine judging by the baritone, had approached them, gathering about around her, “oh no, is this actually seizure the child is having…?!”

“No, I don’t believe so: she was calm a few seconds ago before they’d sounded the alarm; we were just leaving the hospital when Dinky ran out the second she’d heard it all with us as well…!” the titular traveler’s chaperone had answered almost instantly as the grass and ground was now assaulted by the shockwave of kicking and screaming about in due time nevertheless.

It didn’t even take long for Derpy to utilize her own upper body strength to jump out of her own wheelchair at last so to speak of: despite being restrained, she’d started making own her way to her dearest daughter dauntlessly, so determined to reach the latter; even now, this was enough for the former to say something suddenly soft yet sternly, “Dinky Doolittle Hooves, listen to me…!”

“Would you look at that: I never thought this would even happen – she’d just gotten out of there without any effort whatsoever…!” another masculine voice entered their ears out amongst the same crowd, albeit at a higher octave than the very first in question, “why did no one take off her restrains before this all happened…?!”

“Dinky, I want you to open your eyes and look at me: this is still Equestria and I’m still your mother as is; I don’t want you to end up worse off than either one…!” the bound mother said to the otherwise still growing child, already having swam to meet face–to–face in a recent bid of moving through heaven and earth slightly.

Despite being riddled with tears, the aforementioned youth complied and found Derpy’s visage riddled with dirt and grass but nonetheless sympathetic to their shared plight as the latter whimpered, “mommy…?”

“I’m sorry for leaving you behind after all these years because of what they did: I know for a fact everyone in this family is before…” the constricted mother spoke to Dinky with newfound resolve from inside the pit of the former’s stomach all the very same hereof, “I’m even willing to accept the fact that Sparkler isn’t here with either of us anymore because what had happened. Still, I can’t let what they did to me personally go and turn you into something like this, not him, her, or them for that matter, dear; I’d already seen what had been done to my friends as well and even your friends too for that matter, what they’d suffered thru: Celestia knows I want the pain to end as much as the next person but not if it means you go in my place after all this time, Dinky. Even after everything that’s been said and done, I don’t want to lose you either, not after what that witch did at Canterlot no less; not only that, I’ve already made peace with the fact that your father is in prison and who knows long until he ever gets out of there: either way, the last thing he’d want from you is to end up in here while I’m out of the hospital, today of all days no less. Many of our friends and family have been separated over the years all thanks to the war and even after what came next so to speak; the Bearers alone weren’t even the only ones who lost them one way and/or another and they know it too because I’d met them: you’d already heard of both Applejack and Rarity from your friends Twist and Apple Bloom, out of them and so have others. In spite of that, they’ve been nothing but supportive to us over the years, especially since the postwar period presided over: Pinkie and Fluttershy have been slowly going back to their roots for a few years and counting because of their kith and kin; even now, I know that your big sister would want you to be big and strong no matter what and she’d proved herself to all of us then…”

“I know that, I just need to understand: why did they have to hurt us all – you, me, sis, and even daddy too; what did we ever do to deserve any of this – are we even cursed all of the sudden…?” the youngest maiden sobbed, causing Derpy’s restraints to falter about on the visage as the latter also shed a tear again, this time for the former as far as anyone can see, literally and figuratively.

All that had remained of everyone, especially Dinky and her mom in particular, was the cool breeze flowing on their skin, free rom the presence of such hostile relations born of uncertainty. Of all the wonders that had once flourished throughout the twon they were still in, they were all long ago in some brief long spring, in a place that is no more, much like the stardust memories. In that hour, a lustrious sheen from the world’s brilliant green twinkled afore the pair themselves and the closeness between had become the strongest in that real momentum of a wrinkle in time.

Flat

Author's Note

Hi there; it's me, Fireflower here once more with an electric feel ready with a new chapter of H3 on the way: suffice to say, the past chapters from before were by far a simple note for y'all, serving as a taste of what's to come later on as I write them all right at my fingertips.

As usual, 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 still belongs to me so I will say this one time only: please do not steal this story or I will sue.

That being said, I want to say thanks again for putting up with my story this month so far, especially if you been reading the prequels as well since years ago: I honestly wished that I could have done this sooner, let alone finish it; what's funny is that had I done so in half the allotted time, I would've surprised y'all with another story on the same month, albeit on New Years' Eve but I digress.

Flat

Now, it would seem that one part of the world had its very atmosphere already applying some direct pressure upon itself with warmth and wonder. At the very least, the spacious skies had objectively held up its golden sun, unperturbed as well as without clouds of either size or shape whatsoever. The oxygen all throughout, crisp and cool enough to commute many different aromas from all walks of life, had each of them varied in two factors. Even so were many flowers had slowly sprouted from the brilliant green, instantaneously bearing witness to ever rushing waters roaring from its falls. A calm gentle breeze was surfing onward and sliding about throughout the stony roads and dusty trails already cut across the vast hillside landscape. Nesting nearby the rocks and water was but a civilization currently defined in such an intricate manner, bearing more colors and shapes than earth. Density notwithstanding, it was only a matter of perspective to find an utter abundance of such people in finite but numerously typed demographics.

Out of the many buildings in this rather quiet place, there was one which had stood out amongst others: an enormous castle nearby the heart of its city remaining in the premises’ cold distance. It’d stood up as high as a skyscraper yet its acreage was wider, predominantly white like snow alongside some starry violet accents and stripy yellowy spires adorned with its hot pink flags. The castle was opening to a fault, its doors and windows bereft of obstructions save for just one: it was a goldenrod illustration of rather nearby occupation of the sun and moon so abstract as is. A pair of staircases were also found to be providing an entrance from the ground level plainly, buttery with a red carpet as the white pillars stood by with railings to provide support in advance. Some fine flowers were found from the valley around this place, decorating the otherwise stony lonesome castle as it were with generally red petals and lavender textiles in few separate chains.

Inside, the rays of sunlight rained down through the looking glass of its windowsills were many people resided in, geometrically equilateral for a much spatial optimization as it were no less. Much of the interiors were dyed a deep blue yet were too solid as an old snake to surf around, especially considering the fact they were held in place by a dozen pillars no cheaper than strong. Aside from a glassy chandelier of a golden shell, there were torches of lit candlestick hanging halfway off the ground yet further away from the purple nosegays and the blank banners anyway. Gathering about was an enormous yet unequal checkerboard flooring where its inhabitants stood, divided into quarters as they were split in two by a longer red carpet etched on the middlemost. Ending the pathway from the outside world far beyond the tall doors was but an archway cloaked in more flowers diverse in color and species alike within their small patch of the brilliant green.

Standing on the edge of the stairs as prophets would’ve said were but two people both alike in fair dignity at first glance no less: the only commonalities between themselves were bright skins, cold eyes, long hair, and a rather serviceable smile on their visages; of course, they had some rather significant differences, something in which their entire audience can all relate to instantly. Already at the middle of it all was a woman with a multicolored set of hair painted in purple, pink, aquamarine, and green too: her eyes were like the amethysts being worn right within her goldenrod jewelry shining bright like the sun within the same sky; a lone white dress had clothed its owner, bereft of color in comparison to the integuments but otherwise elegantly all the while. Onto her left was a man with sapphires matching his tresses and sash, standing underneath her height by mere inches alone as is: he was clothed in a ruby red tunic with golden cufflinks and silver buttons as well as a pair of white pants alongside black boots; though his sclera was jaded, he was happy, much like every face he was looking at currently at this moment in time as such.

Speaking of which, there was a blond couple bunched up inside the crowd all dressed up with no place to go now that they’re all in: both of their face here was also sharing the same emotions as the two above the small stairwell nearby themselves of the leftmost; as such, their fashion was more than enough to make them feel a part of the moment in time and place appropriately herein. One of them was also a male, just like the man in red, except that he was dressed in all–black completely with an orange ascot: his hair was much shorter than the latter and especially the woman in white, not to mention much thinner, far as they’re concerned; in addition, both eyes were green like an emerald splash, precious enough to treasure the occasion bore witness alone. Another was female, clothed in deeply soulful quicksilver with a singular dress covering much of the body as it matched her shoes: not only was her hair solid in color, it’d also reach past the neckline, albeit shorter compared to her much regal counterpart as is; however, her eyes were all misaligned, despite looking off in the same direction as the rest of massive audience in question.

“Hmm… is this Canterlot… if that’s the case… then what am I… doing here in a… dress with someone… else: ain’t I just… supposed to be… in Ponyville… instead of here... not only that… how in the world… did I even… get there all of… the sudden now…?” the blonde in silver had struggled to cerebrate as both of her goldeneyes started looking around from side–to–side as is.

Whatever train of thought was developing within the strabismic onlooker was then met with both confusion and delay as a full set of brass horns sounded out, belonging to duodecet nearby doors; afterwards, they were all opened up, a trio of brightly skinned girls entering the moving picture, walking freely as they’d scattered hot pink petals from their handbaskets across the surface area. Aside from the blonde hair the elder in silver had shared alongside her nearby correspondent, they were all dressed up in light pink with deep purple accents as far as the onlookers could see; also, they’d worn a crown of flowers around their heads, alternating into a pattern of purple and white while static all the same, a luxury which was lacking in the trail they were making no less. Despite their shared affiliations, even the squinting eyewitness herself can tell their differences: the first of them, also with goldeneyes, had a purple flower over her chest matching the ribbons; the next had eyes of faded amethysts, wearing a red feather against the white scheme altogether; the last was most resembling, a plum bowtie with a white flower and pink ribbons all the while.

Trailing after the maidenly trio was another tall woman now setting foot onto the flower flung fabric as she’d also entered betwixt the observant crowd afore themselves, opposite of the one in white whom was still standing by all the very same. Much like the regal onlooker, this new individual in question also had worn some multicolored tresses in the latter’s head, sharing about half of the former’s hair colors, purple and pink, yet gold too was held in place by a veil of blue and white. Not only that, the tall entrant was also brightly skinned, bearing some orbs of amethysts as well even though they were full of color in a different shade from not only the woman in white but also the middlemost maiden as well so to speak of. The textiles being worn were but the epitome of elegant fashion, another flowing white dress matching that of the regal onlooker excpt with some goldenrod accentuation and jewelries made up of various metals, known and unknown already. Shown up in front of their owner was but a large bouquet of flowers within the tightened grip, each of them all varying in shapes, shadings, and species alike in a series of doilies, something the threesome didn’t have in comparison alone here.

The tall entrant walked about as a series of strings and keys were being grinded up and pressed down respectively into a lofty tune overhead. Each step that was taken by the flowery follower had brought her closer to the archway, greeted by a couple of friendly faces from all walks. Despite the bewilderment the blonde in silver was still in, the tall entrant was at ease, sharing the same emotions as the rest of the very crowd.

It wasn’t long until the youth themselves had made their way to the end, joining at the hip with another trio much older no less: the only commonality between the latter group was a single pearl diadem bearing a triad of jaded flowers worn around long hair; as such, there were so many differences to take note, something which the squinting eyewitness could also see plainly as day. The first woman was brightly skinned like the blondes from earlier, albeit with integuments of an ivory coast far across an ocean: her hot pink hair curled grandly past the neckline as it’d touched the fuchsia dress with a cobalt accent matching her own shoes; additionally, there was but a light yellow flower over her chest which can be seen by its owner’s electric light orchestra of blues. Similarly, the next happened to have a bright integumentary system as well except it was slightly darker but otherwise clear as is: unlike the primordial, her tresses were minty and spiky with a white midpoint, touching a golden dress wrapped by a scarlet sash; as much as both eyes had matched much of the attire, their owner’s slippers are in the same color as the prior accessory. Finally, was yet another woman, this time fifty shades darker than anyone inside and out could bother to care about all the same: even though her hair was short and spiky as well, it was blue like her eyes and dress in general, despite having some bright spots; adding to this was a cerise undercarriage matching with her footwear and a violet adorning a set of hot pink ribbons already.

Soon enough, the flowery follower had made it to the very end, standing on the opposite side of the arch to face her counterpart; then, the woman in white began to speak in a matronly soprano, “friends, Equestrians, countrypeople, I thank and welcome you all the same to this event at hand. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of Providence, to witness the joining together of both Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Captain Shining Armor in the sacred covenant of marriage, commended to be honorable among all peer and therefore isn’t by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, and solemnly. Matrimony is not just a social occasion with a spiritual touch thrown in, but a service of devotion from start to finish, in which vows are made, prayers are offered, and blessings are given; as such, who among you supports this couple in their marriage…?”

“I do…!” a nearby voice was heard, belonging to another woman, albeit darker than the one in blue, standing to the man in red: like the latter and two other peers, the latter wore a similar attire, this time ripe rose red with hot pink accents and a star on chest; amethysts were found as well, “growing up in Canterlot, I had nothing but the highest hopes and dreams he’d be married. To many like–minded women such as Rarity herself, it’s nothing more than the highest of honors attainable, an ultimate statement of legitimacy which had meant untold success; sadly, it pains me that she’ll not be able to experience such joys in particular, much like the rest of the friends I’d made back at Ponyville: even now, I feel guilty knowing the circumstances of their downfall. Even without that, I’ve heard nothing more than excerpts from people whom had watched their marriages end in divorce and, worst of all, death of either party; even though we never talk about them for one reason or another, let alone the preludes to either outcome, I was more than able to embrace the love and happiness from their joy, especially knowing who they are since my youth. The fact that I’m standing here today brings nothing but tears to my eyes knowing that I’ve yet to experience the sensation of having a special significant other of choice to share such a lifetime with him: even the fears of living and dying alone have done nothing more than to remind me of how precious our lives are by and large, even in Equestria no less with what had happened then. As Celestia is my witness, I shall congratulate the two of them on their future journey together as both husband and wife hereby: although so much time has passed since I’d last seen either, I know Rarity and our friends would cherish this moment together; even now, I can’t even help myself but to think what life in and of itself could’ve been for all of us without the need for war.”

“Shining Armor, if it’s your intent to marry Mi Amore Cadenza, please respond with ‘I do’; Shining Armor, do you take Mi Amore Cadenza to be your wedded wife, to live together in holy matrimony and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for as long as you both shall live…?” the regal announcer asked as the titular twosome moved towards each other onstage.

The man in red had said simply no less, “I do…”

“Mi Amore Cadenza, if it’s your intent to marry Shining Armor, please respond with ‘I do’…” the woman in white begged the question similar to one from not long ago, “Mi Amore Cadenza, do you take Shining Armor to be your wedded husband, to live together in holy matrimony, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for as long as you both shall live…?”

“I do…” the eponymous bride had replied in kind.

Soon, the regal announcer had spoken confidently, “the ceremony of marriage is the first and oldest ceremony in the world, celebrated in its humble beginnings in the presence of Providence as a gift given to comfort sorrows and magnify life’s joy. Mi Amore Cadenza and Shining Armor, in all of life, rare is the moment that is filled with more hope, joy, and expectation than this sacred moment: by this divine design, this moment will never be repeated, but rather be cherished as long as you both shall live; up until now, I had but the highest hopes your potential both as individuals as well as a couple would be fully realized. A good marriage is remembering to say ‘I love you’ on a regular basis, never going to sleep angry but standing together, leaning on each other’s strength and support, having the capacity to forgive and forget, providing an atmosphere in which each of you can grow, and finding room for the Elements of Harmony – loyalty, humor, generosity, honesty, kindness, and magic itself. It is not only marrying the right partner but rather being the right partner: you will have this kind of marriage if you continue to recognize Providence as the source of your romance, love, and affection for these things are gifts to you; build your home on this spiritual foundation. Today, as you say your vows to one another, you are also committing that you’ll follow through on these solemn promises: so much preparation has gone into making this moment a special occasion for you two and your guests; these next few minutes are more important than anything else that will happen today. These are the moments that you will look back and remember when you have children, arguments, and the moment of living your first house together; don’t ever forget the words you say this day for they will sustain your marriage through all of life’s ups and downs.”

“Princess Celestia’s words are so comforting: even in the face of uncertainty, she still has the tact to ordain this wedding anyway…” the blonde in silver ruminated complicatedly, turning to face her correspondent only briefly before looking at the youth again, “still, I’m troubled: not only is my skin starting to crawl, I have this feeling that something’s about to go wrong; why is that…?”

“ACK…!” a cough was suppressed distantly.

Anyways, the aforementioned announcer still addressed the audience up in front of the two, “to all those who have joined us to witness this special commitment by both Mi Amore Cadenza and Shining Armor, you play an important role in the lives of the couple: your attendance here shows that you care for them and are supporting this marriage as well as the future of Equestria. I would ask that your support of this marriage not end on this day, but that you continue to support the union that they commit to: it is often easy for us to undermine the value of the marriage commitment by say simple things like ‘you don’t deserve this, you really should think about divorce’ or even taking sides in an argument. Guard the words that you say, in jest and in counsel to the couple; commit today, as friends and family, to uphold this marriage to the best of your ability and never do anything to harm it whatsoever. Shining Armor, as captain of the guard, you are also ordained as the leader of your home, with a unique personality and talents that add to this marriage: when Mi Amore Cadenza was asked why he’d chose to marry you, she says that you make her feel sweet, getting along with others, and are a hard worker. She’d said that she appreciates that you respect her opinions, yet she can trust you to make good decisions for your family: at this moment, your love for your bride is apparent, I challenge you to grow in that love as you grow old together in life; put her needs above your own and lead selflessly as you’d done putting the needs of civilians and troopers alike at utmost as captain. Mi Amore Cadenza, as is apparently today, your groom finds you beautiful; when asked why he’d chose you to be his wife, Shining Armor’s first response was ‘her smile’; in our conversation together, it became apparent that without you around, then the future would refuse to change. Shining Armor values your charisma and that you are supportive of him as a person and the things that her enjoys doing: there are going to be times when the seeds of doubt threaten to grow within you; remember that this man before you trusts you so grow in your trust for him. The two of you have an opportunity today to start your own family: you complement each other – where one is weak, the other is strong and should either of you fall, the other can be helped put back together up and running; these vows that you are about to commit are just words, but they cement forever your commitment to one another. Please join hands and face one another…”

“Okay…” Shining Armor said in a rough yet steady tenor nevertheless, heeding the woman in white’s words alongside Mi Amore Cadenza as well, “I, Shining Armor, take you, Mi Amore Cadenza, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish until death do us part…”

“I, Mi Amore Cadenza, take you, Shining Armor, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish until death do us part…” the tall bride responded in turn to her groom in red with a tender soprano of a higher octave than the likes of Princess Celestia straightaway no less.

Sure enough, both people took out some small rings as the woman in white had said, “Shining Armor and Mi Amore Cadenza have chosen to present ring to each other as a token of their promise: they are a visible sign of an inward bond which unites two hearts in endless love; Shining Armor and Mi Amore Cadenza, from this day forward, the two of you shall be one. Do you, Shining Armor, give this ring to Mi Amore Cadenza as a token of your love for her…?”

“Yes…” the titular listener had answered instantaneously, “I do…”

“Mi Amore Cadenza, will you wear this ring as evidence of your love for Shining Armor?” Princess Celestia asked the eponymous woman.

The tall bride had replied in kind, “yes, I will…”

“Shining Armor, please place the ring on Mi Amore Cadenza’s finger, hold it there, and repeat after me: ‘I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and with all that I am and al that I have I honor you’…” the woman in white had commanded; the groom in red heeded about as he were, “do you, Mi Amore Cadenza, give this ring to Shining Armor as a token of your love for him?”

“I do…” the aforementioned counterpart responded, now feeling a ring encrusted with five different jewels around her finger.

Princess Celestia turned back to Shining Armor and inquired, “Shining Armor, will you wear this ring as evidence of your love for Mi Amore Cadenza…?”

“I will…” the groom in red said, outstretching his hand towards his tall bride gently without touching either female already in close range, “thank you…”

“Mi Amore Cadenza, please place the ring on Shining Armor’s finger, hold it there, and repeat after me: ‘I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and with all that I am and all that I have, I honor you’…” Princess Celestia spoke immediately to the titular woman, the latter now doing the same for the targeted tenant directly upfront for the former to bear witness all straightaway.

The squinting onlooker couldn’t help herself but to cry, her matching goldeneyes currently being supersaturated with achromatic fluids as her own sights were being blurred; nevertheless, she persisted in remaining focused onto the very couple adjacent to the likes of her, thinking of the imminent celebrations overall, “so this is it, a dream come true for them and them alone as is…”

“Shining Armor and Mi Amore Cadenza have pledged their love for each other, expressing their commitment before Providence and this gathering of friends and loved ones…” the white in white announced to the applause of an amicable audience afore them, “they’ve given themselves completely to each other and declared it publicity by the giving and receiving of rings. Acting in by virtue of the authority invested in me under the laws and ordinances within the nation of Equestria, I now pronounce you husband and wife; Shining Armor, you may now kiss the bride…”

At long last, both parties in attendance surrendered themselves to each other, embracing one another in their company as both sets of hands made contact with their targets’ backs instantly. Their cold eyes, which had been underlined by their blushing visage, were closed off as they’d finally touched each other on the lips, their mutual love had currently radiated about to no end. Even though many had cheered them both on, they couldn’t resist having the entire world around themselves slowing down to their collectively treasured heartbeat in synchronized swimming. Irregardless of the many people already bearing witness to the newlyweds’ osculation with ease, they’d felt as if they were the only people on this world that had mattered to one another at large.

Suddenly, without so much as any kind of warning whatsoever, but somehow as if on schedule, the blonde in silver had felt her body becoming drenched in sweat despite being high and dry; not only that, the air around herself started growing heavy in both density and quality as she’d smelled something acrid and smoky invading both of her nostrils in the meantime all the same.

“Derpy…!” a nearby voice escaped into the squinting onlooker ears, leaving with not even the slightest measurement for time to react, if at all, much less look off to find that it’d came from the man next to her directly, something in which had instantaneously caught her off–guard as everyone else was finally staring right at her directly after all this song and dance from earlier.

The eponymous woman found both fabrics and the fiber of her being subsequentially catching ablaze in an instant as fire sprung; of the many screaming masses whom had bore witness to the pain and suffering in just so little time overall, she’d got the worst: blackening by the heat, air, and light as they were fused together by the material fueling them, be if solid, liquid, and/or gas. Though nearby peers were shocked by the ordeal, they’d all struggled to put out the spontaneous combustion of the blond in silver; despite their best efforts, careless and otherwise, they were all unable to do so as her own attire was being consumed by the flames: this was more than enough for the likes of her to be writhing about as they were struggling to save her from the sheer chaos. This was nothing compared to what had came next, not only for Derpy herself but for the rest of the audience in question no less: more people, be if near and dear as well as those closest to the doors or windows were starting to catch ablaze almost immediately; even worse, not even the youngest of individuals were spared from the random terror that had befallen upon themselves.

Out of the many whom were now caught in the crossfire hurricane that was once the happiest day for the twosome in particular, the blonde in silver could still see one face within that crowd: it was one of the girls from earlier whom had resembled her the most, screaming and crying out for attention, freezing the former in place, “MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMY…!”

“DINKY…!” Derpy wailed as they were burning bright at the expense of their lifespans, a rather common occurrence for them; even with the fire and flames eating them away, she’d struggled to reach out to her youngest daughter as is but to little avail: no matter how hard they’d both tried, gravity had forced them down on the ground alongside many of them, “PLEASE HANG ON…!”

Even Princess Celestia was unable to do anything to help anyone in attendance, despite not showing any emotion whatsoever: while everyone around her had been reduced to smoke and ash, she’d stood still as she was from the very beginning of it all no less; even now, her face had become unreadable as the crown upon her head started to melt away in due time so to speak of.

Wind

Author's Note

Hello there and welcome back to yet another chapter of my fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before which I've given you since inception; suffice to say, the past chapter from before was going to end on a strong note for you all though I had decided against it altogether.

As usual, 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 still belongs to me so I will say this one time only: please do not steal this story or I will sue.

Lastly, let me also say that I'd based much of this chapter on Dekomaru's Hot Room comic, Harmonic Rhythm: for those of you who don't know, it was a story that I'd used to make a fanfic earlier this decade ever since; the difference is, she's all alone now at least for the time being so to speak but I can assure you that she'll have a much bigger role nonetheless.

Wind

The clinging and clanging of such metal gears against itself were now heard throughout the cold distance as their innate structures had served to provide the monotone percussion all the live long and prosperous way at once. The identity to this very cause originated from a bell that despite being painted in gold was made of brass, possessing many dents and cracks yet capable of withstanding the vibrations and echoes it’d given out and about as is. It was currently hanging around and about as it’d swung back and forth in an arc during the aria, already held firmly in place by a pole position stretching outwardly at that, already been fitted in to touch two opposite sides.

Outwith the gargantuan instrument itself was but the uniformed sight of taller structures as the cacophonous drumming had started to subside altogether in due time. Zoning out up high as at least a dozen stories tall was a clock displaying a face with but an acute angle, its own thin arrows already pointing to the large digits nearby. A big red flag was now found at the rooftop, already waving around over the otherwise ligneous shingles that were predominately out among the towering behemoths. Residing a mere variable stories from their own skylines were but two kings of people within the metropolis: the many pedestrians wandering and countless drivers too. Kowtowing to all of this and heaven too were many thin blades of some plant–based lifeforms in the vicinity carved into the stony pavement so minutely yet unnoticed. Spreading around were the many oxygen atoms that were instantaneously being in use by all in their entirety, whether they’ve been inhaled or exhaled in the process.

Of the many buildings that stood out and about within the vast and magnificent conurbation, only one was needed to be on display. Although predominately adorned with but a rich chocolaty coating of bricks, there was a pillar of gunmetal adorned with gold orbs. At least a score’s worth of rows were windows already plastered upon the structure, each of them outlined in a copper framework. Resting firmly on the top, its very own precipice had possessed a skylight that was spherical in contrast to its overall cubic state. The red textile had served as the awning, already hovering over the entrance as it was resting in the midst of a black asphalt curve. “The High Saddle Hotel” a sign down in front had read, its preponderantly white text just resting against a jet–black background.

Inside the building, however, was a different story: aside from the sepia flooring, the hallways were bland, something that many wouldn’t mind. Of the few whom were found outwith the line of doors, a lonely woman dressed in greyscale had walked past them lugging a black case abaft her. The traveler in question had worn but an elongated black coiffure with its own tresses already running down past the very waistline all at once. All that she was carrying with her were a pair of bags clashing against the follicles and fabric as they’d been already latched onto their very owner. Staring out from the light purple irises, the woman in star platinum focused in on a small line of black text that read “ROOM 566” against itself.

With a singular card in hand sliding in and out from a slot, the traveler had quickly opened the door almost immediately, instantaneously all at ease with its newfound surroundings themselves. The very ceiling and background in their entirety had matched the style that the hallway she’d came from not too long ago; however, the flooring was different as it’d been colored in true blue. Only two jet–black chest of drawers stood about: one was opposite of the bed, its comforter clad in royal hermit purple befitting marvelous mountainsides; the other near carried one pink lamp. A window was found across from her line of eyesight, already granting her a view of the urban landscape in which the hustle and bustle of its denizens went on like a motion picture in action. Two doors were also found in the wake of the discovery: one was closer to the woman in star platinum, standing on the left; the other, also on the same side, further away but near a window.

Walking towards the bed, the tenant had wasted no time placing her items aside gently as she’d sighed, “ah, here we are, I’m glad to finally get to my room; I think I’ll take a little rest before I begin practicing…”

It didn’t take long at all whatsoever for the likes of her to close the door she’d just walked into earlier, hearing a solid click too; afterwards, both hands attached to their owner’s body were now found to be reaching towards the hem of her very own blouse: underneath the fabric was one of a similar nature, a hot pink brassiere keeping her bountiful bosom at bay as the botanical gardens. Off to a stunning start, the once star platinum clad maiden was now down to her accompanying knickers after kicking off shoes; although she wasn’t in the altogether, the cold air was neither a friendly nor foeman reminder of how exposed her body became: the soft flesh underneath what little fabric had remained all the same as the face she was wearing, moistened with perspiration. Now scantily clad, the tenant was now wiping the sweat off of both eyebrows, literally so to speak of no less, clear as days in; soon, she’d walked right on off to one of her luggage on the bedside and open it to pull out a small object from in there already: a slender crimson bottle was now within her grasp as she’d then head out near the furthest doorway on the left all the same.

Almost immediately, her purple eyes were treated to sights of sterility as both feet were treated to the slow yet steady change in texture, its differences alone reinforced their muscles’ memory. The flooring underneath the woman in pink was drastically different since it was merely but only a clustering creamy set of ceramic tiles on the ground, a monochromatic arrangement of purity. Its walls were painted in a light coat of faint beige, contrasted by the creamy orange ceiling right above the hairs standing on endwise, despite the overwhelming neatness the tenant established. While there were no windows to be found whatsoever, it did, however, possess a mirror like the ones in the preceding room, albeit in a rectangular shape that being shared by the sliding doors. Nevertheless, she’d found herself instantaneously accommodated with the presence of a toilet, sink, hamper, and bathtub, the last of which possessed a showerhead poking outward from there.

Heading straightforwardly up ahead, the woman in pink instantaneously recognized a cleanly transparent yet glossy barrier between herself and the fixture, sliding it to right for the display. Seeing its steely nozzle already guided into a simple curvature high up from the wall, it was already sharing the very same space as another tap underneath with its three handles nearby it all. Calmly, the tenant had started to place her hand onto the leftmost appendage before arranging the others as well; before long, a heightened pitch whine had been followed by a deluge of water. Since it was already splashing directly upon the porcelain surface area below, hot moisture now traveled around to meet her nostrils from top to bottom, its vapors wafting straight on into them. Both cheekbones had soon burned brightly enough to be seen upon the visage like the longest cleared daytime sky the woman in pink herself had bore witness to, much like the many before. In a matter of seconds, a fog was quickly developing around its tenant due to the small area of effect it was currently inside, prompting her to rest her item onto the nearby sink at long last. She’d returned to her luggage from afore, snagging a pair of fabrics made in the same materials: a teal towel and a wisteria washcloth; also, a blue soap bar and green potion were within her grip.

As seconds passed by, there wasn’t much else the woman in pink could do but cast aside her undergarments, joining the outer layer from earlier; now, she was in the altogether, briskly reacting to the open air as her nubbins and flowerbed were freed from what little textures were. In any case, it was about time for the bared tenant to reenter the bathroom, watching as the heat and humidity increased in comparison to the not too distant past; nevertheless, she’d persisted in walking towards the source of her own making, albeit more carefully as far as her eyes see it all. Looking back to the one splotch of color brought to her by all too recent memories, she’d thrown her towel over the barrier both hands had opened and sat the bottle with it without any hesitation whatsoever; now, all that was left in her hand were a bar and washcloth from before so to speak. Either way, it wasn’t even long enough until the bared woman had stepped inside the bathtub rather slowly and carefully at once, quickly taking the time to close up the sliding doors as well so as to shut out what little cold air had remained before it’d even had the chance to fight back. Embraced at once by the heated compound in its liquid and gaseous forms altogether, the lonely tenant’s dry skin had become a thing of the past; although at ease, the fact she was now directly in the path of the showerhead was starting to burn her up from top to bottom all the very same. Nevertheless, she was able to breathe a sigh of relief knowing that the frigid oxygen thereof had been instantaneously transmutated by the liquid; although lacking in any variation whatsoever, its heat and pressure alone were more than enough to shield her body from the outside world.

Hot and heavy here and now, the bared woman felt more than welcome to use her own wisteria washcloth to cover up the soap bar and exposed them to the heavy water in the very same hand. Within mere seconds alone, the lonely tenant had started watching the off–white foam develop from deep underneath the knitted layer and went about lathering herself from top to bottom as is. Now taking careful aim at the perspiring face at once, she’d soon then wiped away the few stains from the yesterdays one too many before bristling around her neck mindfully about nevertheless. It didn’t take long for the froth itself to begin laying claim onto the bared woman’s integuments, spreading downwardly throughout their owner’s body, unrestricted by the water above herself. Regardless of how much moisture developed beforehand, nowhere around the lonely tenant’s body was even given a second’s reprieve from the soapy onslaught since they’d also slid abaft. Generally speaking, all the suds and bubbles were found to be quickly slathered about around both her bust and abdomen at once, some of which made their way on the opposing side as well. Soon, she’d bent over forwards and began to wash her shinbones from the kneecaps to forefeet before standing back up to rinse it off immediately even after exploring her hindquarters briefly.

Already the bared woman’s tresses were now being directly supersaturated gently by the same water from before, soaking it all in completely. Nearby the showerhead above the lonely tenant was a small grated latch widened enough to be used as a dish despite having one gap too many. After putting the items in her grip upon there, she’d stepped out of their range, all washed up but not at rest to tread on carefully nearby the sink. Verifying the stardust memories of not too long ago, the wet woman locked onto the two bottles from before resting upon the small surface area. Even with the visibility compromised by the immense condensation alone, the lonely tenant’s amethyst orbs refused to waver so to speak of. Likewise, the dimensions therein were the same as earlier no matter what, prompting their shared owner to return with them both in tow already.

Out of the pair firmly back within the wet woman’s present possession as they were beforehand, she’d opened up the big red one and poured a fraction of its contents over her jet–black tresses. Its solution had already started etching themselves deep into the lonely tenant’s hair, tinted every single one with colors straight out of the rainbow, despite the initial absence thereof, if at that. Then, almost instantaneously, they were all being cleansed away before another round was made, no doubt the work of their owner’s hands so to speak of, not that the froth had bothered her at all. Afterwards, the wet woman’s hair was lathered up with increased fruition before being washed away, prompting her to switch bottles without fear or hesitation since she’d told the differences. Such was the case as usual when the lonely tenant’s tresses became brightened by the otherwise glistening compound, sparkling about before following the same fate as the previous one as is.

Soon enough, another area about herself had gained attention as she’d found the time to lathering her washcloth again with the very same soap. Covering it up, the wet woman quickly padded over and begin rubbing around slowly, feeling its steadily tightening reaction already chaffing. A suppressed moan had escaped from the lonely tenant, even as she started nudging throughout, thanks to the contrasting textures altogether. In no time whatsoever, they’d been increasing in quantity and volume as well, especially now she’d spread both legs apart and moved slow. Still, the washcloth scoured in between the wet woman’s soft, tight velvet underground, causing herself to let out a highly pitched mewl as is. A jolt had traveled thru the lonely tenant’s spine as she’d quivered about, stroking up and down the very same place afore wedging itself back. With such contents gathering around, she’d squealed about as her leakage in particular joined a similar yet preexisting compound runabout.

As the nerves and stamina inside of the wet woman’s whole body had finally regained control almost instantly, she quickly found the resolve to flush it all beneath the running water whiteout. The lonely tenant had rinsed her washcloth again as well on both sides, cleansing both all of the foam and her flow completely, all before creating another layer of white once more with feeling. Upon applying said soap onto the area betwixt her legs with dispassionate dissonance delicately, the solution was doused with the fluid once again, leaving her with time to wash her hands clean. Eventually, the wet woman turned the knobs back to where they were before, shutting the water off so as to stop her skin from being further saturated altogether as she still dripped on and about. The lonely tenant had opened the barrier back up and stepped out of the bathtub, her feet landing right back onto the tiled flooring as she was wet with indifference and expectation all the while. Since she was still moist from top to bottom, it was more than enough for her to remember the teal towel from afore hanging around, taking the time to dry right off and clothe most of her skin.

Sure enough, it was now time for the wet woman to leave the bathroom, already reminded of what was waiting for her as far as these stardust memories of not too long ago were concerned. Even the lonely tenant knew the only thing which had changed between her entrance and the showering alone was the presence of condensation from where she’d emerged, albeit sparse as is. At the very least, she’d found herself scurrying off to her luggage once again to retrieve yet another item in question, a sapphire hairbrush with bristles bereft of bunches beyond a bezoar. Much that could be done about anything with it in particular was running its flexible spokes interfacing with its owner’s jet–black tresses without any interruptions whatsoever so to speak. In the very most, there was no opposition lying in wait for neither the object in question nor the wet woman all the same, every downward stroke being etched into her fibers thanks to gravity. Not even the still lingering moisture from much earlier ago hindered the task at hand, no doubt the work of the lonely tenant whom had quickly switched sides as if it were merely a coinage. Generally speaking, this was as far as anyone could go in commenting on the situation thereof, especially with how benign and mundane the act was and is, particularly with her all the same. Suffice to say, it wasn’t even long at all until the wet woman been at an end with her activity, quiet as she was afore her decision to strip away her own clothes gently and without trepidation.

Speaking of which, the lonely tenant bared herself again so she could use the towel which had absorbed the liquids still clinging to her body for dear life on their owner’s straightened tresses. Despite being back into the altogether again like before, she’d showed no fear, if any, of the cold whatsoever even with her body exposed to and by the moisture past and presently all the same. Moreover, the fact that the wet woman was feeling her body becoming besieged by bumpy had reminded her of the urgency to cover the entire integumentary system up once more so to speak.

Either way, it was already about time to ditch the hairbrush and focus back onto the luggage once more with clarity, rising up and at them with the resignation of a salaryman, albeit more opening and anticipatory, to search on again. Of course, the lonely tenant couldn’t do much except find a set of undergarments: although pink as the ones from afore, they were much larger by merely a small percentage; additionally, they were accompanied by white stripes. Soon enough, it didn’t even take long for the likes of her to wear them with pride and prejudice, free to roam around in the waking world and dreamland too, if the need would ever arise from fatigue within the former altogether. Then, at long last, the worn woman found the resolve to dig deeper into one of them, uncovering a set of plain peony pajamas out and about amongst the clothes within themselves, silky smooth yet delicate to the touch nevertheless. In a small myriad of ways, the fact they’d been themselves found to be overlaying their owner’s body brought comfort compared to the preceding attire adorned the lowest common denominator as far as they were concerned now. At the very least, the lonely tenant could only let out a big sigh now that she was fully clothed again, save for the lack of shoes despite them being nearby nonetheless; still, the soft textures from afore had remained unchanged.

Now it was time for her to rest after relaxing, her back now up against the soft surface that was a bed, free at last for the time being: unlike the one where her equipment had lain, she had it all to herself in particular, having already remembered its lock made therein; not only that, the steam from the shower in the bathroom soon became a burning memory, much like its predecessors. Under no circumstances did the amethyst orbs could ever get to see anything else but total blackness, nothing like the hairs: it was time to sleep as far as they could focus on, even as the sun was still on the horizon, shining about rather freely, all the same; eventually, there was only nothing else emanating from the woman in watermelon but a continuous exchange of oxygen. Even now, the lack of noise had cemented its place in history, before, during, and after, as far as the individual was concerned as is: in the lonely tenant’s case, it was, and is, what she’d craved the most, currently freed from much of the outside world’s influences; either way, she didn’t care at all about the past or future, consciously and subconsciously, since all that remained was there.