Polyamory is a Surprisingly Effective Solution to the Housing Shortage 2

The living room was deathly still, yet vibrant. Streamers in vibrant shades of blue, green, and yellow hung from the ceiling, twisting together in cheerful spirals. A banner stretched across the room, proudly declaring "Happy Birthday!" in bold, colorful letters. The coffee table, usually home to magazines and a stray remote, was now covered with an assortment of snacks: bowls of chips, trays of finger sandwiches, and a punch bowl filled with sangria.

In the corner of the kitchen, Pinkie huddled by herself behind two dozen balloons, giggling excitedly to herself as she made last-minute adjustments. She carefully positioned a mini party hat on top of Sunset’s pet lizard’s head, who sat patiently under its heated lamp. Then she hurriedly lit the candles on the cake—a decadent chocolate masterpiece with "Happy 27th, Shimmy!" scrawled in icing across the top.

The house was filled with a quiet tension, the lights were dimmed, and a hush fell over the room so quiet Pinkie could hear Fluttershy playing Animal Crossing in her bedroom. Finally, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway broke the silence. Pinkie held her breath as the front door creaked open.

Sunset Shimmer stepped inside, fumbling with her keys as she froze and stared at the living room. “Oh Pinkie, not again.”

It was too late. Pinkie pounced from the kitchen shooting confetti everywhere with party poppers. “Happy happy birthday, to you from me Pinkie! Happy happy birthday even if it’s a mystery!”

“For the last time, Pinkie, I don’t have a birthday. Not from here, remember? Very not from here.”

As the confetti settled and Pinkie’s cheerful anthem faded into giggles, Sunset slipped off her shoes and dropped her backpack by the door. Her mind was already on the promise of a warm shower after two days at CanterlotCon. She gave Pinkie a quick, grateful hug before making her way down the hallway. The bathroom was a haven of quiet, its serenity a welcome contrast from a weekend of convention chaos and whatever the hell Pinkie was doing. Sunset turned on the faucet and let the water heat up, the gentle hiss a soothing backdrop to her thoughts. As she undressed, she glimpsed at herself in the mirror.

A weekend of cheese pizzas and milkshakes was not doing her belly any favors. She considered if she should start jogging with Rainbow Dash again.

Once the steam began to rise, she stepped into the shower, the warmth enveloping her like a cocoon. Sunset let out a deep sigh as the hot water cascaded over her, its embrace soothing the aches in her muscles and the weariness in her soul. She leaned against the cool tiles, closing her eyes and letting the water wash away the residual stress of the day. She lathered herself up with soap and then simply stood there, eyes closed, letting the water do its work. The day’s struggles began to wash away, swirling down the drain along with the remnants of shampoo and bodywash.

Suddenly, a loud, cheerful voice pierced through the steam-filled air. “Are you sure you don’t want to celebrate anyway?”

Sunset’s eyes shot open, her heart skipping a beat as she turned towards the source of the voice. Pinkie Pie, impossibly cheerful and clad in a party hat and a bright smile, stood just outside the shower curtain, her face pressed against it with an expression of playful mischief.

The curtain, barely containing the steam, rustled as Pinkie poked her head in, her puffy hair straightening out as it got soaked. “Everyone deserves a day just for themselves, even if you don’t know which day aligns with the human calendar.” Pinkie smiled warmly, holding up a waterproof party hat.

Sunset’s mouth dropped open in a mixture of surprise and exasperation. “Pinkie… Why are you—can you just—” She bit her knuckle, trying to figure out what she wanted to say first. Sunset took a deep breath. “I am tired. Can we please talk about this when I’m not, you know, butt-ass naked?”

Pinkie’s eyes scanned her up and down, tracing the edge of her waist and hips, and simply shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. But fine, you asked for it. Don’t complain when I eat the first slice of cake!”

Sunset made a shocked look of disappointment as Pinkie left. “Aw what? No one said my cake was on the line.”

Sunset Shimmer looked over Twilight’s shoulder at her computer screen, a small GPS overlaid with an algorithm for detecting and predicting magical anomalies. The map was no different from any satellite view, with familiar roads, buildings, and parks of the city, but what caught their attention was the alert pings and sinusoidal fluctuations displayed in the corner of the screen.

Sunset Shimmer leaned closer, her fiery red and gold hair brushing against Twilight's shoulder as she squinted at the screen. “It can’t be another one," she said, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I didn’t think I’d spend the rest of my life cleaning up Equestria messes. Starlight seriously needs to figure out how to keep a lid on magic between the worlds."

“You sure you wanna go? The museum’s not far from Rainbow’s gym, and she’s always looking for action anyways. She can cover you.”

“Nah, she’s got a thing with Applejack and Rarity tonight. They’ve been teasing her for weeks now, I’m pretty sure she needs it. I’ll just handle it. We’ve been doing this since high school.”

“Nope, nope, nope!” Pinkie declared from the kitchen, marching into Twilight’s room with determined steps that far outpaced her usual bouncy gait. “You can’t go on a magic mission on your birthday, Sunset Shimmer!”

Sunset blinked, momentarily speechless. “Pinkie, it’s not—”

“I say nay!” Pinkie interrupted. She then grabbed Sunset by the shoulders, her blue eyes sparkling with an intensity that left no room for argument. “Today is your special day! You’re supposed to be eating cake, opening presents, and partying with your bestest friends—not chasing after some spooky magic thingy-ma-bob!”

Twilight followed them out to the living room where a vanilla raspberry cake at least four or five layers high, threatening to topple over from the weight of fruit, frosting, and sprinkles, awaited them on the coffee table. “I didn’t know it was your birthday, Sunset.” Twilight paused, nervously biting her nail. “Should I have gotten you something? I didn’t know you were celebrating, or I totally would have gone shopping. I know, I could get you an Amazon gift card!”

“Don’t,” Sunset sighed. “Pinkie, it wasn’t my birthday yesterday, and it’s not my birthday today. How in the hell did you make another cake in a day?”

“Dark magic and blood pacts, sister,” Pinkie said proudly. “Don’t underestimate how many demons you can summon with virgin’s blood.”

“Be serious,” Sunset groaned.

Twilight nodded. “Even if that were true, whose blood would you use? Pretty sure we don’t qualify.”

“Okay fine, “ Pinkie admitted. “I used Quick-Bake mix.”

“But you hate Quick-Bake,” Sunset said.

“I know!” Pinkie said, pulling her hair. “I wanted to dieeee! But I chose to live because you, mi amiga, have yet to celebrate your birthday with your friends.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Sunset grabbed her keys and stormed out the door. “It’s not my birthday but I still want that cake when I get back!”

The grand halls of the Canterlot Art Museum were eerily quiet, save for the soft echo of footsteps as Sunset Shimmer and Pinkie Pie made their way through the dim galleries. It was already dark by the time they arrived, and the art museum’s paintings and sculptures took on an eerie visage. Paintings of every style and era adorned the walls, and sculptures stood sentinel in the corners, their stone faces casting long shadows under the muted overhead lights.

Sunset scanned the artworks, behind cabinets, around statues, searching for anything that could serve as conduit for Equestrian magic that had somehow found its way into the museum's collection. Twilight’s detection device pinged quietly, but until they took readings from around the building, she wouldn’t be able to triangulate a precise position.

“I can’t believe the security guard just let you walk in,” Pinkie said as she trailed behind Sunset, hand on her shoulder.”What did you tell him?”

“I threatened to email the museum accusing him of downloading hundreds of gigs of porn onto the work computer.”

“How’d you know he did?”

“Magic.” Sunset smiled and twirled her necklace in her fingers, the gemstone shimmering with an ethereal glow, its surface appearing almost liquid as it caught the dim museum lights. The color was a deep, fiery amber, with flecks of gold that seemed to dance within the stone, as if tiny flames were eternally flickering just beneath its surface.

“Oooh, right,” Pinkie said. “Speaking of thoughts, wanna read mine? Maybe I can convince you why it’d be great to celebrate your fake birthday.”

“I know why birthdays are fun, Pinkie,” Sunset sighed, “I just don’t like mine. Can’t you leave it alone?” Then she paused, stopping in her tracks so suddenly that Pinkie bumped into her.

“Sorry!” Pinkie whispered.

“Why are you whispering? The guard let us in.”

Pinkie giggled. “Oh, yeah. So, did you find the magic?”

“Well, it’s not setting off Twilight’s device, but it’s kinda hard to miss.” Sunset turned Pinkie’s face with the palm of her hand. The painting was unlike anything else in the gallery. It hung in an ornate, gilded frame, its edges adorned with delicate carvings of vines and flowers, which seemed to grow and twist as they looked at it.

The canvas itself was a riot of color and light, depicting a scene with a garden and serpent from human religion. A river wound through the scene, its surface sparkling with the reflections of a setting sun that hung low on the horizon, casting long, golden rays across the land. It seemed to come alive more than it should have. Sunset used the light from her phone and the oil paints shimmered like the morning sun on fresh dew drops. The colors didn’t just sit on the canvas; they shimmered and shifted, as if the scene was in motion. Serpent undulated, almost imperceptibly, its tongue flicking at the ear of a naked Eve.

“It’s not the main source of the magic, but it looks like it was enchanted,” Sunset said, extending her palm and opening Twilight’s locket. Slowly, the life in the painting faded, faint wisps of magic seeping into the containment device.

“Okay, so that’s one super-magical glowy painting down,” Pinkie said, her voice bright but hushed as she peeked into the next gallery. “How many more do you think there are? I wanna get back to that cake.”

Sunset ignored her for a moment, her expression remained thoughtful as she scanned the room. “I’m not sure, Pinkie. If the magic infected someone or something during daytime hours, they probably walked through a lot of exhibits. I just hope they didn’t spread enough magic around to do any real damage.”

Pinkie nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing with every step. “So, why don’t you like your birthday?”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort, Pinkie,” Sunset began, choosing her words carefully. One could never know if something was going to set her off. “But it’s not a big deal. It’s just a day.”

Pinkie’s expression softened, and she slowed her pace to walk beside Sunset more closely. “Is it because it reminds you of how you left your home and everything you ever knew over a temper tantrum at your princess-slash-teacher? Because you should know that you’re not that person anymore, Sunset. You’ve changed—literally. You’ve grown. You’ve got all of us now, and we love the Sunset you are today.”

“I think we spend a little too much time together,” Sunset said, managing a small smile. “You don’t have to worry about me, Pinkie. I’m already happy. I get paid to play video games, my office is my bedroom, and I live with all my best friends. I don’t need a birthday.”

“But you get to have one,” Pinkie started, though Sunset cut her off with a look. She pointed to an ancient Greek bust from the classical exhibit. The magic wasn’t immediately obvious, more like a soft aura that shimmered around the edges of the marble.

“Look, the long and short of it is that I never bothered to count the days when I first came here,” she said as she cleaned up the magic. “When I even thought about my own birthday, I hadn’t had a celebration for years. I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with, so I just wasn’t used to it. Why are you so hung up on this anyway? You have so many other birthdays to celebrate. Our friends, your family, probably everyone you’ve ever met.”

“Be reasonable, Sunset, even I have limits.”

“Oh, so now you want to be serious?”

Pinkie pouted. “Birthdays are no laughing matter. You say you’re not used to celebrating it, but what about back home? You had parties then, right?”

“Celestia was… busy most of the time. Now that I think about it, she was always planning for when Nightmare Moon would return. She probably worried I’d end up like her sister, which I guess I kind of did, which explains why even if she was a kind mentor, she could still be distant. So no, no parties in Equestria either.”

“Well that’s not a good reason,” Pinkie said. “That’s terrible! After hearing that, how can I not throw you a party?”

They rounded a corner and entered a smaller, more intimate gallery room. The walls were lined with glass cases, each housing a different painted china doll. In the corner of the room, below a decorative bookcase was a Nikon digital camera humming with magic. Sunset reached under and pulled it out.

“Twilight’s locket is going wild,” Pinkie said, taking the device from Sunset’s pocket. “What do you think it did to it?”

Sunset shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” She peeked through the lens and snapped a photo of Pinkie Pie.

“Ah!” she gasped, blinded by the flash.

“Sorry, I didn’t— hold on, that’s strange.”

Pinkie rubbed her eyes, blinking as she adjusted to the darkness again. “What is it?”

“The photo doesn’t look like you. I mean, it is you, but you look tired, and your hair’s frazzled.”

Pinkie leaned in to see for herself. The photo was unmistakably her, unmistakably Pinkie Pie, but was a far cry from the energetic, youthful vibrancy she had, even now. This Pinkie looked exhausted, her usually bright eyes dull and sunken with dark bags. Her hair, which normally had the volume (and smell) of cotton candy, was frazzled and limp, hanging like a tangled mess around her face. Even her signature smile was absent, replaced by a weary, almost haunted expression.

“Wha—?” Pinkie gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a step back, and looked at herself with her phone. “Woah, that’s freaky! What do you think it means?”

Sunset investigated the camera, looking closer at the other images it had taken. They were all of the painting and the marble bust, but there were people in the corners and margins of some photos, and they also looked off. Mothers were hunched over, almost snarling, looking like withered crones. A few kids who had the look of first year art students—Sunset recognized her kin anywhere—were sweaty, bloodshot bundles of anxiety.

She flipped the camera around and snapped a photo of herself. Surely enough, the Sunset that appeared on the screen was different, though this time it wasn’t too different. Her eye bags were no longer covered up with concealer, and a faint snarl had begun to curl up from the corners of her lips, but it didn’t look too different from the truth.

“I think the magic makes the camera take pictures of how you feel on the inside,” Sunset said, slowly looking at her friend. “Pinkie, are you okay?”

“Oh pfft, don’t be crazy, Shimmy,” Pinkie said, shaking her head vigorously as if she could shake away the unsettling image. “I’m not like that! I’m happy! I’m fun! I’m… I’m Pinkie Pie and I throw the best birthday parties!”

“Okay, but look at all these people in the photos. Tired moms, bored staff, it’s showing what these people are feeling.”

“What about your photo, huh?” Pinkie asked. “You’re not that different.”

“That’s because I’m fine. Sure, I’m a little ticked off that you keep asking about my birthday, but overall, I’m in a good headspace right now.”

“Then I’m fine too, Sunset. I have all my friends with me all the time, how can I not be?”

Sunset gave her a sad smile. “You can still get worked up over other junk, even when things are good. You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you. I’m just worried that you’re trying to distract yourself by throwing me a party, and that whatever is bothering you is gonna get worse because you’re not dealing with it. So promise me you’ll deal with it, okay?”

Pinkie seemed to deflate, shoulders slouching and her eyes darting between the camera and Sunset. “Okay.” She pouted, her gaze flickering back to the photograph—the image of herself looking so tired felt more like a mirror than a photo. “Should you… do something about that camera?”

Sunset looked at it, pondering how it got here. Why someone had dropped it was obvious. What would anyone do if their camera started taking pictures of things that weren’t there? Freak out, probably. But how the magic came through—and when and why it picked a Nikon of all things—were still a mystery.

“Nah. Seems harmless,” Sunset said. “Wanna take pictures of our friends?”

“You know I do.” Pinkie smiled. “But are you seriously not even going to hint when your birthday is? Even on the pony calendar?”

“You want me to keep asking what’s bothering you?”

“Touché, Shim-shim, touché,” Pinkie chuckled. “But seriously, no.”