Again, the flight up to Cloudsdale is no easier than usual, your present-lingering rush from Grannysmith be damned. But with every wing flap your destination nears, and no sudden encounters bowl into you this time, keeping you locked immobile on your upward climb. No, this ascent is more akin to simply walking up a bothersome, tall set of stairs. If there was any proof thus far to imply that you’d gained something from all your traveling, surely it was this.

And just like that, a realization strikes you.

Not just one, but two.

They slow your trot to a stop.

For one, you had long since completed the flight up to Cloudsdale– in fact you were staring at your childhood home.

You’d not even realized.

The other, something you’d been told since you went to Canterlot, but only now are seemingly understanding:

Who is this Fluttershy?

Who is this Fluttershy that, on a whim, takes off divebombing from Cloudsdale on a warpath toward Canterlot?

You didn’t know this Fluttershy –at least, you thought you didn’t– but her appearance brought with it fear; as so many things did for you.

Was she the same Fluttershy who shouted down a dragon after it attacked her friends?

Was she the same Fluttershy who snuck past a power-drunk Trixie to strategize Twilight’s return to Ponyville?

These actions don’t feel like your own; but if not– then whose are they?

Tentatively do your hooves carry you to your parent’s door, and tentatively do they knock.

“... I hear you, Gentle Breeze, but it’s a little deeper than me just not being into her.”

”That’s okay. Of course, I’m biased, but I understand your circumstances are certainly different from most.”

You’d been speaking to Breeze for quite some time now, sharing this bench. Shock had long since turned to denial, and denial was being overtaken by contemplation. Even disregarding Breeze’s words, the fact that he existed at all, and was so not just normal, but outright enjoyable to be around…

Maybe you had only ever seen Fluttershy in a certain lens.

Of course, not just from your own well-built perception, but from the established modes of communication as well. There was always a question presented to you in the morning, one you’d answer in the negative to. That’d more or less be it for the day. Was that really giving her a chance anymore? Or were you just rubbing it in? That was never your intention, and it’s not your fault she keeps on showing up–

But there isn’t much Fluttershy can do otherwise.

Sure, she could take the hint and move on, but you know better that she doesn’t operate that way; she never has. What if you did give her the chance? Just a date, to gauge herself if she really even likes you, or if this obsession of hers has simply spiraled out of control after so much stagnation. If the formula never changed, there’d be no reason to assume she’d somehow gain new insight to see that her love was only ever a simple crush to begin with. Whether it was his intention or not, Gentle Breeze might’ve just thrown his daughter an assist.

Fuck.

”Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to turn our chat onto such a subject. I hope that wasn’t, eh, too painful to get through.”

You lean back against your seat, gaze fixed on the distant treeline of Whitetail Woods, though focusing on nothing in particular. “Less so than you might think, Gentle Breeze.”

”Please, just Breeze works.”

The two of you sit in relative silence for a few more minutes, before the stallion begins to rise from his spot beside you.

”I appreciate the chance to talk, Anonymous. It’s nice to finally put a name to the face.”

“Back to Cloudsdale?”

”Mhm, to the Weather Factory. I’d already taken a long lunch to come down here; it’d be irresponsible if I were absent any longer.”

“What was cause for the visit anyway? Need more pegasi kickin’ clouds?”

Breeze laughs, now hovering at face level with you. ”No, not quite,” he begins, rummaging through his cardigan pocket. ”I’d actually been looking for Fluttershy. Just to check in, you know? Her cottage was empty though, and I know she’s not one to sleep in, so I’d just been walking the streets rather aimlessly, heh…”

Before the stallion made his gentle ascent upwards, he gave you one last request. ”If you see her, ask if she could stop by the house sometime, yeah? Posey can get quite stir-crazy when the kids are gone for too long.”

A subtle pain pangs your heart.

“I can imagine. I’ll let her know.”

With a nod and chaste “thank you,” the pegasus turns skyward, steadily picking up speed toward that great cloudborne machine.

It was good things ended there, cause you wanted some time to think. Where else better than among the relative quiet of the park, keeping company for your lonesome bench? Your introspection wasn’t exactly linear, but it so seldom was anyhow, and you were in no rush.

So that was Fluttershy’s dad, huh.

Spurred on by his parting words, you try to remember your own father; perhaps just because it seemed like a good opportunity to dig those thoughts up. Two years is a long time to disappear without a trace. The thoughts briefly drift to your own mother, and those words about being gone too long. You force your thoughts elsewhere, because that’s not something you wish to consider.

How much longer did you have in this new land, before you were sent somewhere else once more?

Your mother is quick to answer the door, and her familiar face alight with joy threatens to tear up your heart. ”Fluttershy! Sweetheart, I-I had no idea you were in town! Everything’s alright, I hope?” Before a reply can form, your mother takes you into an embrace, her neck meeting yours in, by your mother’s standards, an incredibly forward hug. You melt into it, the heavy thoughts accumulated from your journey now weighing on you more than ever.

Or perhaps, the mental exhaustion finally catching up with you.

So the words don’t come out, not yet at least. No, it’s plainly obvious that now is a time for respite.

“... Oh, mother–”

You can hardly even begin, before pressing your weight against Posey, a tiresome sigh taking with it all the free air your lungs could offer. Mother doesn’t press further with questions; intuition and such. Helped that you weren’t exactly subtle. And so you elect to gently wobble against your rock, the mare you’ve known longer than any other. A so-close friend of yours, somepony whose love simply cannot be attempted to even explain, as no number of words strung along in their infinite potential patterns could scratch even the surface of comprehension in defining the relationship you so thankfully manage to share. Given so freely to you, and so often not even reciprocated in return, and always failing to equal when attempted.

Not that she’d ever fault you for it.

Such was the boundless love a mother gave to her only daughter, and such was the quality of care you hoped to one day emulate unto your own. Perhaps, that was the only true way to return the favor of unreciprocated, unearned love.

But you’re hardly thinking on any of this.

No, your thoughts are too heavy and too coiled in emotion, and you can process them no longer without recharge. Instead you’re probably crying mutedly, as your stalwart mother cups your neck with her own, ready to wait as long as needed for her love to recoup her senses as she dissociates on her fillyhood home’s front porch.

That’s alright. It was nothing new.

Some time would pass, exact numbers unimportant, before your mother would offer further relief.

”Would you like to come inside? I have water for you.”

”You’re so thin, Fluttershy. Has something been keeping you from eating?”

Cool, collected rain water from the Weather Factory’s runoff is balm to your throat, and probably fodder for oh-so experienced tear ducts. You need multiple refills, taken in greedy gulps each time, before you can manage a reply. Finally a healthy medium returns in the sharp inhalations of high elevation air, and your mother receives the beginnings of closure.

“Anon,”

”Ah…”

“I-I went, ah, looking for advice.”

Sat by your side on the living room couch, Posey makes no attempt to interject. While the other families may have been curious to question, mother knew you better. Nostalgia lines every possible nook and cranny of this well-lived room. Picture after memento after heirloom of objects, most of which their original sentimental value unknown to you– but the formative years you saw them in passing everyday made familiar value in yourself; and those were feelings uniquely your own. Your eyes scan them all, from those that line the mantle of the fireplace, to the paintings and medals pinned on the wallpaper; yet you have trouble focusing on any of it.

“I thought if I could talk to married, happy ponies: I could learn how to become one myself.”

“I needed to travel, more so than I ever had on my own, and I think…”

“I think all I’ve gathered are more questions, none of them having answers.”

“I don’t feel wiser, and I don’t feel anymore prepared to face Anon again; quite the opposite.”

More yearns to spill out from your lips, but home has brought with it a wellspring of emotions pressing inward. Infantile and unable to muster up the courage any longer, your eyes can only stand to meet your mother’s, as tears stream lines down your cheeks. There’s nothing aside from Posey’s hoof atop your own, to keep you from regressing into a whimpering foal.

Of course, it’s not enough.

But in here, it was okay.

You felt no shame in sobbing before mother.

Perhaps days before, you would have.

”Oh, Fluttershy–” Posey’s own words waver, her eyes now too bubbling. ”H-having questions isn’t wrong. Answering none, a-and finding more isn’t either. Conceptualizing further questions is wisdom! Things you didn’t even know you need to worry about! You have to discover them first to even begin trying to find the answer. E-everything you do is progress; progress to become a better, stronger mare.”

Though she weeps alongside you, and though another hoof must cover her mouth in politeness as a sob chokes her; she wears her smile proudly.

”Everything you’ve done, e-everything you’ll do after, is of your own volition. Your own drive.”

Shockingly, Posey throws her hooves up in the air. ”Traveling Equestria! To visit the Pies, I’d assume! You, sweetheart! You did that!”

”Aren’t you proud?”

Your lips purse, words clattering into one another in your mind, making a real mess of the place.

”You are a hero! An inspiration! I-I, ah,”

Posey dabs away some of her tears as she laughs– a losing battle. ”I couldn’t have asked for a stronger daughter, somepony who has saved us all in so many ways countless times.”

”Those voices inside that put you down must persist only because your heart’s too kind to, heh, s-shut them up. I’m certain no other mare would be capable of handling them as elegantly as you do.”

”I am so proud of you, Fluttershy. And I know, just as I know that you know yourself, that anything you desire IS yours. You don’t need mine or anypony else’s help to conquer your fears–”

“B-but I do!!”

“I’ve NEVER been able to do ANYTHING on my own!”

“ALWAYS I’ve been dragged along with my fear by stronger ponies– ALWAYS to the detriment of everypony else!”

“A-A BURDEN!”

”D-don’t you DARE call yourself that.”

Pinpricks.

Ice surely has frozen in your coat, biting past your skin somewhere deeper. Hairs stand on edge along your neck, goosebumps coating your body. Places you weren’t aware existed, sensations you weren’t sure how to comprehend. An inferno blazes in mother’s smoldering eyes, unbecoming of the tears still pumping from them. Perhaps they were steaming hot, looking to flee from that alien heat burning just behind mother’s glare. How such fire could exist, thrust forward somehow and capable of singeing with just a look, and how it could chill even the saliva on your teeth–

You did not know.

You’d think twice about ever getting mad enough to use your own Stare again, if it was anything like mother’s.

That look continues as mother shifts on the couch, closing the gap in between even more. Only does it relent when she’s grasped both of your forehooves. A deep, deep sadness takes it’s place; the kind that comes far down enough where words begin to fail. Bodies were always the better speaker, anyway.

”F-Fluttershy. You are not a burden to anypony.”

”You are beautiful, living proof of the unrelenting joy life can offer those willing to accept it.”

”You are a miracle.”

”I don’t know what happened between you and Anon, or what fears have rooted so deeply in your mind that you’ve been blinded to the bravery you present in the face of whatever may bring danger to us ponyfolk or your friends, but I hardly need to–”

”Because I know you. I know the feeling of self-imposed inadequacy, and the false-comfort feeding into those dark thoughts can bring.”

”I know how it feels to push anyway, despite those fears never truly leaving. They’re strongest just before you act against them, and even more so during, as they drill into your heart in mind as punishment for disobeying.”

”I know you’ve felt that pain many times, clawing up your soul every second as you acted to save your friends in spite of the terror, or the belief that you’d just committed yourself to death, or humiliation, or anything.”

”I know, because I had been there too. And everytime, everytime: I came out on top. And so have you.”

The next few hours were raw, to say the least. With so much usually-hidden emotion cast before another, perhaps the one you’d least want to be made aware of its existence, it came with the territory.

But, it was constructive.

Clearly, you didn’t need any more crying. You’d done enough crying. You’d needed a release of frustrations, a proper display of the anger you’d so constantly pelt yourself with. Once all was said and done, you could finally move on. Father had come home at one point, as the sun was beginning to set, but he was wise enough to give you and mother space for the time being. Far be it from him to intrude on conversations, after all. Instead, he got to work quietly preparing dinner in the other room, hoping that he could time it’s completion just right so as to ask if you’d stay to eat; and of course you would.

That stallion could never let his hooves be idle.

You and mother had long since gotten comfy in the living room, your head resting in her lap as she gently ran her hooves through your mane. The conversation had evolved beyond self-hatred, and thankfully, onto the actual purpose for your visit.

”... You think Anon just isn’t interested in ponies outside of his species?”

You sigh, eyelids feeling heavy. You REALLY didn’t want to believe that was the case; even if he always said it was. “People, mother… A-and… Mmh... I really hope not. It’s just- just so sad if he truly does feel that way. He just… appeared in Equestria one day. I had hoped that time would show him that he’d need to open up to others, but… I guess enough time hasn’t passed yet.”

“He’s just so, so… stubborn.”

Part of you wants to growl, thinking about how easy everything could’ve been if Anon just gave ponies a chance.

... You might not have helped the case for ponykind at large with some of your more questionable actions, but…

”Have you ever thought about toning your desires back, and trying to approach initially as just a friend? Maybe with enough time, he could come to view you as somepony to trust and confide in. From there: Who knows where it’d lead?”

Your eyes flutter shut. “I don’t know if I’m patient enough for that, mother.”

”You’re one of the most patient ponies I know, dear. Who else would still be giving a stallion chances after so many refusals?”

That makes you quietly grumble, but father’s voice from the kitchen surprises you. ”I can think of one!”

Mother laughs to herself. ”Gentle Breeze…”

You turn your body, looking up at your mother from your reclined spot in astonishment. “R-really…? Y-you and father?”

Breeze gently laughs in the room over as Posey turns pink. ”Like I said, sweetheart, I know your position all too well.”

”I’m proof there’s light at the end of the tunnel, too.”

Finding now to be a good time, father trots into the room, getting cozy on the couch by your hindhooves. ”When I first met your mother, gosh, I couldn’t stand her!”

Posey nods, her eyes drifting back to some point from long ago; a small smile lingering on her lips. ”Your father was so caught up in climbing the ranks at the Weather Factory that, well, he figured he just didn’t have time for some googly-eyed filly more concerned with flowers than anything up in the clouds.”

”I used to try working overtime in the Factory, because I knew Posey would be waiting by the entrance: Picnic basket in one hoof, and those old “sexy librarian” glasses in the othe-”

Posey clears her throat abruptly. ”N-now now darling, we don’t need to tell Fluttershy ‘everything.’ “

”Oh? What should we tell her then? Perhaps the time I caught you planting horny goat weed in pots outside my old home?”

Ready to turn the teasing around, mother is quick to fire back. ”Well, it was quite effective, no? I mean, we have two kids now and all~”

You dreadfully don’t need to hear this.

Father seems to be in the same boat as you, rubbing the back of his neck. ”A-ah, well…”

“U-um, mother? Father? P-please don’t tell me about how I was conceived.”

”E-eheh... Point is, dear, your father was as stubborn as could be: Thinking that his job came before settling down. You can have your cake and eat it too, with a supportive wife cheering you on.”

Gentle Breeze capitulates, nodding his head. ”Very, very true, love.”

”You know, it must be fate you decided to visit home today: I was actually down in Ponyville looking for you earlier.”

You peek your head up. “R-really? I was there-”

Talking to Granny Smith.

“W-well… I was in the area. Where were you?”

”I checked by your cottage first. No luck, and since I don’t know Ponyville all that well; I’d just taken to wandering the streets. Good excuse to trying and get familiar with the world below, can’t coop myself up in the Factory for much longer. But! I did spot somepony tall, somepony who’d been apparently looking for you.”

You’re all ears now.

You shift, curling yourself into a more proper seating position on the couch. “A-Anon was looking for me? Why?”

”Not sure. I’d heard your name on the wind, figured it would lead me to you: But I saw him talking to Pinkie Pie before she zipped off. I’m only guessing he couldn’t find you either. Anyway, we’d gotten to talking. Nice fellow!” Father’s smile quickly turns bashful, fiddling his hooves together. ”... I, uh, tried to be subtle, but I think I managed to put in a good word for you. He seemed pretty shocked to meet me. It’ll make you bringing him over for the first time less nerve-wracking on his end though, right?”

... Sweet Celestia what did father say to Anon.

You try to mask your rapidly-escalating heart rate. “T-the talk went well, then?”

”Oh, yes! Much of it was spent on, uh, clouds admittedly, heh…”

This was embarrassing on a whole new level.

Father had managed to… to dudebro-it-up with Anon.

Part of you wanted to duck your head in the couch pillows, but admittedly? This embarrassment felt nice, in a way. Like, how other ponies must feel embarrassment: Playful and (hopefully) harmless. Odd as it was to say, you much preferred this over some of your other feelings these past few days.

“G-gah… I don’t know what to say…”

”I promise it went well! Maybe your father even lined up a date for you, hm~?”

It was a miracle Zephyr hadn’t decided to visit the family today; you’d never hear an end to the teasing. Though, the idea of Anon meeting your family proper had butterflies flipping your tummy…

”Breezie, you’re torturing the poor mare~”

You were SO not used to your parents in this manner.

”But to get back on topic, Fluttershy, don’t you think this is a good development? I’m not saying that going the friend-route is the right choice, but it’s a worthwhile option to consider.”

“I just don’t know if I could handle it. I always seem to… make a fool of myself if I’m around Anon for too long. Some feelings just takeover, and I’m certain that whatever display I spontaneously put on will end up working. It never does.”

”Maybe a new approach is in order? From what you’ve written to us, I’d say the straight-forward approach just won’t work on Anon: He’s used to it by now, and will shoot it down the moment he realizes.”

”I think you’re right in that he can’t last alone forever, but if you continue down the path you’ve been, he might still not want to seek you in particular out.” Posey’s hoof finds it’s way under your downcast chin, turning it to her face.The warm, loving face of your mother greets you. ”If anypony can get through to him, it’s you, sweetheart.”

“... Thank you, mother.”

You take your mother into another hug, though unlike earlier, there’s no more weary anguish to spill onto her. No, now there’s only mutual love, and hope for what the future will bring.

Father clears his throat.

”You know, I haven’t gotten a hug from my daughter yet…”

Author's Note

Well, we're in the homestretch now! I hope you've been enjoying thus far! I thought I'd have more to say on this story throughout posting– but maybe it'll all come to me at the end of things. Part of me has wanted to keep quiet on a lot of my thoughts looking back on this story out of risk for spoilers.

I can touch on it more after the finale chapter, but going back to the time I was first writing the Twilight Velvet chapter– this story had taken on a very melodramatic angle that I wasn't accounting for. When I'd first gotten the idea for a story like this, my goal was to keep things quite comedic: Each pair of parents having a specific fetish they'd used to get their partner & encouraging Shy to try that out on Anon. Of course, that concept kinda slipped by the wayside in lieu of Flutters' introspection and everyone giving Shy peptalks to restore her confidence. I don't hate what the story turned into, but I always fear I treaded the edge of Shy doubting herself too much. Perhaps it's 'in-character' to some extent, but that aspect of Fluttershy tends to be the part most people find problems with in the show itself– myself included to some extent. There's certainly a right way to do it, and plenty of wrong ways. My own self-confidence can't decide which side my portrayal of Flutters falls on– but maybe that's part of why I like her so much.