Potted Plant

Wallflower places a hoof on her chest as she takes a deep breath. Said breath is shaky and anxious. She can feel herself beginning to tremble, and if she weren’t actively focused on keeping her breathing as steady as possible, she would likely be in a worse state.

It’s early in the morning. The sun has barely risen, and dew is still coating the grass on either side of the dirt road. Almost nopony is awake yet, and aside from a few chirping birds, the town is quiet. That quiet is interrupted by the creaking sound of the gate leading to Anon’s garden opening as Wallflower lets herself inside.

The first thing that catches her attention is the rose bush. Despite her nerves, a smile spreads across her face as she passes it and takes a seat beneath her favorite lemon tree. Anon probably isn’t awake yet, but she wants to talk to him as soon as possible. At least, she thinks she does.

Anxiety is nothing new to Wallflower. She’s never been confident in social situations, and she can only function as well as she does thanks to her uncanny ability to be ignored. As a result, she’s never really sought comfort in times like this. It would only serve to compound her problems.

And yet, she still finds herself being drawn here, to this lemon tree. To this garden. To Anon.

She closes her eyes and leans back against the trunk of the tree. For most, this would be an ideal time for a nap. She would be inclined to agree, if it weren’t for the fact that she couldn’t possibly hope to fall asleep in her current state. Instead, she simply sits with her eyes closed, listening to the gentle sounds of a Ponyville morning and soaking in the atmosphere of the well-kept garden.

She’s not sure how much time passes as she sits there. Eventually, the sun begins to rise higher in the sky. The sounds of voices and movement become more common as the town wakes up. A gentle breeze begins to pick up, somewhat offsetting the increasing heat.

Then, finally, she hears the back door of Anon’s house opening followed by a few heavy footsteps. She opens her eyes just in time to see him yawn, covering his mouth with one hand while scratching his back with the other. Once the yawn is finished, he opens his own eyes properly. Immediately, his gaze falls dead ahead of him, landing directly on his rose bush. It takes a fraction of a second for the morning drowsiness to disappear from his face. His eyes go wide as he gasps, his face immediately brightening in excitement.

Without any hesitation, he crosses the garden with surprising haste despite avoiding all of the other plants in the way. Once he reaches the rose bush, his joyous laughter spreads throughout the garden. Even Wallflower feels her anxiety begin to fade somewhat at the sight of Anon’s sheer jubilation.

The roses have bloomed.

The flowers are massive, much bigger than Anon was expecting. Their scarlet-colored petals practically light up the whole garden. He wasn’t kidding when he mentioned how the bush was the garden’s centerpiece. Now that they’re finally able to be shown in all their glory, they really do tie the garden’s aesthetics together. Even Wallflower, who is no stranger to gardening herself, is impressed. How he managed to grow such a beautiful rose bush is beyond her, but she isn’t complaining. In fact, she doesn’t even realize how wide her own smile has gotten, both at the sight of the bush and at the sight of Anon’s excitement.

“You did good, Anon.”

“Woah!” Anon’s head quickly swivels as he jumps at her voice. “Hah! I was so excited, you actually managed to fly under my radar for a change!”

“Gee, maybe you should get excited more often,” she teases as she stands up and approaches the bush alongside him. “They really are beautiful.”

Anon doesn’t respond immediately. He glances down at her, his smile still spread across his face, before looking back at the roses. She watches as he wipes at his eye before a tear can fall from it.

“Yeah. They are.”

“You must be proud.”

“Eheh.” He lets out an incredulous chuckle, a mixture of emotions hitting him all at once. “It’s definitely a new feeling.”

“Oh? You don’t feel like this when you do stuff for other ponies?” Wallflower has a sly grin on her face, though Anon doesn’t see it.

“I do.” He nods confidently, though he appears lost in thought as he does so. “I can’t say it’s ever been this strong of a feeling, though.”

“Sounds to me like doing something for yourself now and again is good for you.”

“...Hmhm. Maybe.” Anon takes a deep breath as he stretches out his back. When he finishes, a familiar warm smile is spread across his face. He looks back to Wallflower, who tilts her head. “But that’s a conversation for another time. You’re here for a reason, aren’t you?”

“D-do I need a reason?”

“No, but I didn’t forget about the Exhibition. Today’s your big day, right?”

“O-oh.” Wallflower blinks. “I, uh, didn’t expect you to actually remember.”

“Come on, give me some credit! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Wallflower feels her cheeks reddening as she looks away.

“W-well… I’m not used to being supported like this.”

“But you still came here all the same.”

“...”

“Haha. That’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself.” Anon clears his throat and begins to stretch out his legs, clearly still a bit fatigued from having just woken up. “Shall we go, then? They open soon, right?”

“S-so you want to come with me?”

“Course I do!”

Wallflower hesitates for a moment before the smile returns to her face. For some reason, she no longer feels as afraid. She’s no longer shaking, and her breathing is no longer strained.

“Then let’s go. If past years are anything to go by, we can expect a long line.”

“Lead the way!”

“Hm.”

“Well…”

“It’s definitely pretty.”

“Yes, it most definitely is.”

The curious pair gazes at an impressionist painting done of the Ponyville market. While the skill behind the painting is plain to see, what with its brilliant use of color and shading, the battle taking place in the center of the piece between Princess Twilight Sparkle and Princess Celestia somewhat spoils the beauty of the landscape.

“Well, I’m sure the artist is quite proud of it.”

“R-right. Good for them!” Wallflower awkwardly clears her throat before looking around the hall they find themselves in. The Exhibition is exactly as big as she remembered it. There are countless ponies in every direction. From the youngest colts to the oldest mares, everyone and their mother is quietly appreciating the fine arts. It’s a lovely sight to behold, even if the majority of the attendees are just looking for an easy way to keep themselves entertained during an otherwise uneventful afternoon. As per usual, none of them pay Wallflower any mind. “I-I don’t mean to rush you, but can we get going? I want to make sure we get to the Art Off in time.”

“Sure, sure. I kinda wanted to check out the sculptures, but the Exhibition is open for a few more days anyway, right? I’ll lead the way.”

“Thank you.”

With a smile and a nod, Anon begins pushing his way through the crowded hall. Wallflower sticks to his shadow, carefully weaving through the gaps in the sea of ponies that his large stature creates for her. As she follows him, she becomes acutely aware of just how sweaty she’s getting. Whether that be due to her nerves or the intense heat from the massive gathering of ponies during a summer afternoon, she’s not sure.

Eventually, the pair emerges into a large auditorium. While there are a couple hundred seats prepared, only a dozen of them are filled. It’s extremely clear that they’re much earlier than they need to be, but doing so ensures that the fear of being late is not among Wallflower’s growing anxieties.

“You’re gonna do great,” Anon whispers as he gives his friend a pat on the back. “Just remember to breathe, alright?”

“I-I’ll be fine,” she mumbles unconvincingly. “Besides, it’s not like it’s a whole speech or anything. The artists just give a sentence or two to introduce their work and say what it’s called.”

“Either way, I’m sure you’re gonna kill it.” Anon chuckles and gives her a warm smile. “Let’s take our seats, shall we? I’m gonna enjoy being in the front row!”

It doesn’t take long for Anon to conclude that front-row seats are overrated, especially when you have to wait several hours for the show to start in order to ensure your spot in them. The two make light conversation, both about art and about whatever else they can think of to keep Wallflower’s mind preoccupied. It isn’t until the lights dim that they even realize the competition is about to begin.

An older stallion dressed in a fancy cardigan steps on stage as a spotlight focuses on him. He gives the crowd a big, award-winning smile, causing said crowd to fall silent almost immediately. As he opens his mouth to speak, two foals shuffle about in the darkness behind him to bring an easel covered by a large cloth into the light.

“Ladies and gentlecolts, welcome to this year’s Ponyville Art Off!” The presenter waits for the crowd to cheer, which they wholeheartedly do. “As always, today is a day to appreciate the fine arts. We have many, MANY submissions this year. In fact, it’s one of the largest competitions we’ve had to date!” Another pause, another round of cheers. “Yes, yes, I’m sure we’re all in for a real treat! We’ve got so many styles, so many passions, so many expressions of creativity that I guarantee you will leave here a changed pony!”

There is a round of thunderous applause at his words. The ground rumbles as hundreds of ponies stomp their hooves. Anon glances at Wallflower, who is doing a better job than he was expecting at keeping herself together.

“I’m sure most of you know how this goes, but if you don’t, the rules are simple. We will unveil the entries one at a time. The brilliant artists behind these entries, who sit in the crowd amongst you all, are to then come up on stage, state their name and the name of their art, and then provide one sentence to say whatever they want! Once everything has been shown off, the voting will begin!”

One more time, there is a huge round of applause. Wallflower takes a deep breath as the first work is unveiled: A portrait of what seems to be Prince Shining Armor made entirely out of abstract shapes and colors. An energetic mare by the name of Ms. Peachbottom excitedly introduces herself and the painting before saying a dozen too many sentences about how she was inspired by a trip to the Crystal Empire some time ago. Whatever tensity was in the air seems to disappear as the crowd laughs at the mare getting shooed off the stage.

At least, it does for everyone but Wallflower.

The Art Off goes by surprisingly quickly. More time is spent admiring the work than letting the artists speak, but Anon supposes that’s probably the point. The paintings themselves range from abstract to insultingly obvious, from the image of beauty itself to literal garbage thrown onto a canvas. He is far from an art snob, but even he can see that there is a large disparity in the skill of some of the artists in this competition. Looking around at other ponies’ reactions, it seems he isn’t the only one with this opinion, either.

Suddenly, a new painting is unveiled. The crowd collectively gasps as the work is revealed to them. The energy and optimism in the room suddenly vanishes, replaced by complete silence. Confused, Anon looks to the stage for answers.

The painting is a curious one. A dark swirl of black and gray encapsulates most of the image, with little hints of green and brown mixed in. It’s like an endless vortex consuming all in its path, its victims little more than strings of colors that once made up something beautiful, but can no longer be identified as themselves. Most shockingly, however, is not the painting. Instead, it is what has been smeared all over it, as three rotten tomatoes appear to have been thrown at the piece, their red-and-brown juices and skin ruining the work and making about half of it unable to be seen.

“W-well, this is a shock. It appears that one of our works has been vandalized, and it never even got a chance to be shown off!” For the first time, the speaker’s demeanor goes from cheerful and kind to cold and aggressive. “What an affront to art! If we find out who did this, I swear on Celestia’s name that I shall–”

“It was me.”

Anon blinks. Amongst the confusion of the painting’s unveiling, Wallflower snuck all the way on stage without anyone noticing. She now stands next to the presenter, placing herself between him and the painting.

“H-hello? Who said that?”

“I did. I’m right here. Right next to you.”

“Right next to me? How is that– WOAH!”

The speaker nearly falls over as he suddenly recognizes Wallflower’s presence. The audience remains completely silent, their eyes darting between the art, Wallflower, and the presenter.

“M-Miss Wallflower? But isn’t this YOUR entry?!”

“Yes. No one vandalized it. This is the piece as it’s meant to be.”

“O-oh.” The speaker awkwardly clears his throat as he sheepishly rubs the back of his head. The crowd does not respond. “W-well, that’s certainly a… unique take on things. Ahem. Very well! You may now present your work.”

Wallflower slowly turns to the crowd. She feels her legs beginning to tense up as her knees lock in place. Her brown eyes shimmer in the bright spotlight, and she’s fairly certain everyone can see just how sweaty she is. As her gaze anxiously darts from one place to the next, she finds herself at a loss for words.

“It’s just three sentences,” she thinks to herself. “Speak up, darn it!”

Her eyes continue to dart around the crowd. The presenter clears his throat, and the crowd’s confusion only grows, their silence infinitely more deafening than any noise could ever hope to be. Just as she feels herself about to mentally shut down, her eyes fall onto one seat in particular, where the only human in the crowd resides.

Anon gives her a big, warm, encouraging smile.

“...M-my name is Wallflower Blush. This piece is called ‘Potted Plant.’ It’s a representation of what it feels like to… to want someone to see you. Thank you.”

With an awkward bow of her head, Wallflower shuffles away, eager to get off of the stage. It only takes a few moments for the staff to present the next work, being just as eager as her to move on.

“You did great,” Anon whispers as she retakes her seat next to him.

“Please don’t lie,” she mutters back. “That was a nightmare.”

“I don’t know about that. You said exactly what you needed to, nothing more and nothing less. Besides, your art really is–”

“HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PONYVILLE~!”

Anon and Wallflower feel their eyes go wide at the sound of a familiar voice. Turning back to the presenter, they are greeted by two beautiful mares rollerblading onto stage. Sweet Pea and Spice Berry give the crowd their award-winning smiles as they put on a performance all their own, their intricate outfits and copious amounts of makeup easily standing out from the crowd of humble artists that came before them. The art itself hasn’t even been unveiled yet, so how they know that it’s their turn to go is a mystery to all.

However, as the cover is lifted and an extremely generic painting of a treeline (that really could have used more time in the oven, so to speak) is unveiled, their charisma wins over the crowd. Cheers ring out, hooves stomp the ground, countless ponies hoot and holler as they excitedly introduce themselves.

“No,” Wallflower mumbles. “No!”

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re doing it again! They’re doing the same thing they always do, no matter where they go!”

“Wallflower, what are you talking abou–”

“They did it to you, and they’re doing it to them! And it’s working!”

Wallflower’s panicked expression only grows as the two mares skate off-stage. Their art is taken out of the spotlight, but nothing else takes its place. Instead, the presenter walks towards the center of the stage once more, his charming smile shining over the crowd.

“Well, everypony, it’s time for voting to begin!”

“No…”

The voting doesn’t take long at all. Pamphlets with little boxes letting everyone vote on their favorite piece are passed out to the crowd. Neither of them even need to look up to know who the crowd is looking for. All they can do is let out an incredulous laugh at the fact that the Exhibition didn’t even spell Wallflower’s name right.

“Wow, voting took absolutely no time at all this year! I think it’s clear who our winners are, but let’s present them all the same! Everypony put your hooves together for…”

“Woah!”

Anon nearly falls out of his chair as he is pushed aside by Wallflower. Tears fall from her eyes as she rushes past him, paying no attention to any of the ponies in her way as she sprints out of the Exhibition, not willing to hear what she knows is about to be said. And yet, in spite of her efforts, the microphone is loud enough to reach her even as she escapes the venue.

“Sweet Pea and Spice Berryyyyyyyyy~!”

The crowd erupts one final time into a roar of excited cheers while the pair walks on stage. Anon, knowing that he is needed elsewhere, tries to leave, but his large form can’t escape from the sea of high-energy ponies. As the two boisterous mares thank the crowd for their support, he realizes the gravity of the situation.

Wallflower’s worst fears have come true.