Sun Redacted

Chapters

A Study of Dimensional Rifts and the Mitigation of Invader Threat
The Sun Rises
Clover Pavilion
Cosmic Love
Pumpkin Party
Skin Couture
On the Suitability of Certain Horticulture
Agent Smith Reporting In
Sun Spots
Aide to the Sun
Scar Brand
Future is Now
Just as Advertised
Love and Loathing
The Sun Sets

A Study of Dimensional Rifts and the Mitigation of Invader Threat

Moondancer1, and Infinitesimal Space2

1 Graduate of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns

2 Trauma of Moondancer

Abstract

Equestria has been under siege by alien invaders for a long period of time due to the formation of Cross Dimensional Rifts after the creation of Starswirl’s Mirror of Refraction, and further worsened after the banishment of the Pony of Shadows to Limbo by the Pillars of Equestria. This paper will be used to summarize the functionality of the Rifts, as well as propose potential solutions to the ongoing crisis of cross dimensional invaders.

Additionally, though regrettably, this paper will forgo some of the traditional aspects of a scientific study due to the lack of experts on the subject and little to no foreknowledge, meaning there will be no citations1 given.

1 The primary reason is due to the secretive nature of Redacted and refusal to allow cited sources in any non-Redacted documents. Additionally, even if I had been granted permission to do so, the majority of experts in the field have been erased from existence by Malformants, which makes it rather difficult to properly quote them.

Terms

The following will be a brief guide on important terms necessary to understand this paper and provide a unifying guide of proper terminology1.

Agent: A catch-all term for any employee working within Redacted. This includes facility caretakers such as Wallflower Blush, Mr. Greenhooves, and Spearhead, field agents such as [Redacted], [Redacted], and [Redacted], and subject matter experts such as Sunshine Smiles and Moonlight Raven.

Invader: Acatch-all term for any Cross Dimensional Traveler using a Rift to enter into Equestria.

Malformant: Cross Dimensional Invaders who have become corrupted and taken on monstrous appearances. Categorized by Redacted under Sin.

Redacted: Organization under the leadership of Princess Celestia herself. Handles all incidents related to Rifts and Cross Dimensional Invaders.

Rift: Cross Dimensional Portals linked to other dimensions.

Sin: A sorting category used by Redacted to identify Malformants and determine proper containment. The categories are as follows: Hatred, Feast, Obsession, Vanity, Loathing, Desire, Apathy, and Wallowing.

1 Do you know how hard it is to gather research on a topic when everyone you talk to uses completely different words to describe the exact same thing with said words getting increasingly more outlandish with every new locale? For example, an Agent from Canterlot calls Rifts ‘Donuts’, an Agent from Dodge Junction calls them ‘Varmint Holes’, and an Agent from Vanhoover calls them “The Bad Electric Slide”. The fact that this sounds like the setup for a terrible joke does not help matters.

Introduction

The core problem Redacted is facing at this time is the continued containment of Malformants. Malformants are the corrupted form of any Invader that attempts to cross through a Rift into Equestria1. The final form varies greatly depending on the Invader; however, they can be roughly categorized into one of eight classifications of Sin by Redacted. It is currently unknown why this transformation occurs.

Malformants are dangerous. The majority cannot be reasoned with and, when left to their own devices, a single Malformant can cause casualties numbering in the dozens or even thousands. The general populace is unaware of their existence, as they have been masked as either mythological creatures or are influenced by the measures put in place by Celestia herself to protect the state of mind of her ponies.

Resources have dwindled. Casualties are increasing. Malformants are growing in number. Though several hubs have been constructed to handle the mass containment of Malformants4, due to our inability to permanently destroy them5, we need new technology to assist in the handling of this dire situation before it grows beyond our control.

Thus, we have two avenues to approach: closing the Rifts, or improving our capture methodology. The prior is impossible, which will be covered later on in this document, but I have devised a solution to the latter through the Dom Initiative6.

1 There is in theory a way for an Invader to cross over into Equestria safely2; however the only known method of travel capable of doing so is the Mirror of Refraction3, which has been sealed away due to an incident involving one of Princess Celestia’s personal students.

2 For reasons unknown, this phenomenon only applies when entering Equestria. In past incidents, ponies have crossed through Rifts and returned with the Malformant transformation only happening when they came back. Unfortunately, due to lack of viable recording equipment and volunteers, we do not have a clear idea of the worlds on the other side of the Rifts to glean a possible reason for this.

3 An artifact created by Starswirl the Bearded pre-Limbo. The classification of this item as an artifact is due to the supposed impossibility of recreation due to very exacting requirements. Princess Celestia has declined to give those requirements.

4 Some example locations used to handle certain Categories of Sins are the Evening Watch Cafe, the Canterlot Castle Garden Pavilions, and the Moors of Hollow Shades.

5 Malformants cannot be permanently killed. After a far-too-short period of time, they will eventually reform and continue to wreak havoc. Currently, over 20,000 methods have been attempted to destroy Malformants. They have all failed.

6 Stop making the obvious joke, it's unprofessional.

The Problem with Rifts

Allow me to be frank, we cannot close the Rifts. Ever. Only mitigate. This is due to several very important factors:

Rifts cannot be opened in Equestria to other Dimensions1.
All Rifts are opened from other Dimensions to ours through unknown means.
Rifts will open at a random location3, drop off a Malformant, and then close a short time afterward.
What few interactions we have been able to have with Rifts have shown that Equestrian magic does not mix well with Rifts5.
We do not actually know what Dimensions are connected to Equestria; just that they are other Dimensions, and that is only due to knowledge gleaned from the Mirror of Refraction.

For these reasons, any actual attempt to stop the Rifts from opening is impossible. A task made even more so by the number of Fractals6 within our Dimensional Shell.

In conclusion, it is not worth the time or bit investment to continue research into the closure or destruction of Rifts. The best we can do is to focus on improving our reporting, detection, and communication technology and methodology to handle the aftermath of Rifts.

1 This statement is not entirely correct; however, a pony would need to be capable of overriding the SUN Protocol2 put in place by Celestia, which requires magic on par with the Princess herself.

2 The SUN Protocol is a nationwide spell that handles several very important aspects in regards to the public handling of Malformants. This includes memory fabrication and erasure, as well as stopping the creation of more Rifts. It is unknown to me whether this protocol extends to the other races.

3 Any work toward discovering a pattern to the formation of Rifts stopped after Discord4 appeared one day and told hardworking researchers that their topography map of Rift locations within the last hundred years was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It was concluded that the rift location was, in fact, random.

4 For reasons he is unwilling to share, Discord is willfully ignorant of anything to do with Rifts and Malformants. He has to date shown one exception in regards to what is known as the Butterfly Monarchy incident that is considered highly classified and not accessible by my security clearance.

5 There is a reason why most of Stallingrad has been abandoned.

6 A unit of measure used to determine how much damage has been done to the fabric of our Dimension. More Fractals means more Rifts, which leads to more Malformants. We have a lot of Fractals. A lot.

Dom Initiative

Now, to the main topic of this paper. I believe I have developed a solution to the threat of Malformants. We simply need to improve the power of individual Agents to better combat Malformants, as well as make it easier for Agents to attain the level of power necessary to do so.

As you know, Redacted has three main weapons to battle with Malformants:

Equestrians’ natural magic. However, it is only effective with large groups of highly skilled operatives.
Traumas1 utilized by individuals or inherited through bloodlines that are caused by very rare circumstances that cannot be reliably reproduced.
Alicorn Magic2.

Two of the above options are in extremely short supply, and the last is hampered by our ability to gather and train skilled Agents with how high Redacted’s mortality rate is. Eventually, we will become unable to hold back the Malformant tide.

Thus, after several long years of research and with the assistance of my Trauma Infinitesimal Space, I have devised a new method of combating the Malformants using Malformants.

Allow me to introduce the Dom Initiative.

Firstly—

1 A natural phenomenon by consequence of the high Fractal rate of our Dimensional Layer. There is no concrete science behind the birth of Traumas; however, it is believed that a Trauma is formed from deep-rooted emotions that manifest themselves as a sort of guardian to assist the connected pony(ies). It is unknown whether or not other races are capable of this feat.

2 This is made more limited by Celestia’s absolute refusal to bring Princess Luna, Empress Cadance, or Princess Twilight Sparkle into the fold. I once more plead to Princess Celestia that leaving them in the dark will only hurt us, as we need both their knowledge and power in order to pull through this ordeal. But I know you’ll ignore me like you always do in this regard.

The rest was illegible. Nonsense glyphs conjured by Moondancer’s Trauma.

Agent Harpsichord, Lyra Heartstrings, surveyed the devastated apartment of her friend. There was a huge wall in a portion of the single bedroom abode. The exact nature was unknown, but Lyra felt it safe to presume it was due to the work of a Malformant, as no ordinary entity could get past Infinitesimal’s shields.

Thankfully, the only documents left in the apartment were drafts. The real thing had already been delivered to the Princess, who had given the go-ahead on the Dom Initiative.

Unfortunately, her friend was gone.

She wasn’t dead. Lyra would know since her Trauma, the Chorus, would have notified her. But she didn’t have any clue where she could be… or what state she was in.

Lyra was determined to find her, but Redacted was already stretched far too thin already. They couldn’t afford to grant her Agents to assist in finding a researcher that had already done their job. That meant drawing on another trusted organization within Equestria. One that may have a potential ally that she was already intimately familiar with.

Bonnie was going to be so mad at her.

The Sun Rises

Celestia had an innate feeling inside of her that told her when the sun must rise. It had been ingrained there since she had gained her Princessdom, and had disallowed her from sleeping in ever since.

She had never been a morning pony, and some cosmic entity was getting a kick out of this.

Groggy. That was the most dignified way she could describe herself as she got out of bed. Whirlwind was saved for her mane, which she quickly magicked into something sensible. Coffee would be on her desk and would get her to some semblance of functionality. Waking up would happen sometime later that day, hopefully after the first few whiners of Day Court had given their useless self-centered petitions.

Sun followed her rise with a burst of magic. It bathed her room in its glow, mocking her for having to be awake before even it had to be.

Shuffling over to her desk with a heavy yawn, she heated a cup of coffee from the night before with magic, took a sip and sat at her work station, feeling the caffeine work its magic.

There were three stacks of papers on her desk, all organized and summarized by her assistant Raven Inkwell. Celestia made a note to herself to give Raven another raise that week, considering how heavy the workload had become and how well she stayed on top of it.

It was the start-of-the-month reports, which meant the stacks were higher than usual, but still manageable.

Celestia opened one of the drawers in her desk. Specifically, the one that was enchanted to be a self-contained incinerator. She took the stack of Day Court petitions for the month and dropped it into the proper disposal. Where it belonged.

She was already going to have to listen to them whine in little over an hour, she didn’t need the written form as well.

Next were the status reports on key parts of government, the nation, and its administration, as well as any smaller personal projects she had her hoof in. A quick read showed that everything was working as intended, and a few papers were put aside for follow up either that day or later in the week. None of it was pressing, as any real emergency would have already barged through her bedroom door dressed in armour.

Thus, she came to the final stack: the Redacted Documents.

She pulled the papers closer to her with magic. They were printed on black paper and written with a special ink that only qualified ponies could reveal with their magic.

Her horn lit, and the words appeared.

First up were the Facility Containment Reports. Things were going smoothly. Canterlot Castle Gardens, Celestia’s personally-run location, was due for several new additions for the Clover Pavilion that would be delivered overtime and a few big drop offs for the Arbour Pavilion. Those containments required her presence near the end. She was filled with both dread and anticipation in equal measure.

Working in the Arbour Pavilion brought forth many good memories, all soured by the loss of… her last student. The gardener present would be both a welcome reminder of her and a source of resentment toward how Celestia handled her final days in Equestria.

That, however, was a later problem. Currently, she had to start looking for a replacement gardener. The prior had been… retired for not following instructions, which meant they needed to be replaced. She was not looking forward to the process.

Next was Malformant Activity.

There were reports of one near Ponyville set to arrive around Nightmare Night. An old one. No new Rifts.

If she had a guess, it was most likely that one. Celestia knew Agent Smith would handle it then. Have it properly contained after the debacle from nearly a decade ago. It would be good for them to clear up their loose ends regarding Spartan.

Minor updates to the SUN Protocol. She’d do that after reading the reports.

Next was the Forecast from Hollow Shades. Another week of several noteworthy Malformants. A troubling trend, as the number of powerful entities only seemed to increase from week to week. She sighed. There really was no end to them.

She had sacrificed so much of herself to handle this Cross Dimensional threat. Compromised many of her own morals to ensure the safety of her subjects. She tried to be ignorant, but she knew what her Agents did. What lines they crossed to get the job done. What lines they had to.

All these reports painted a grim picture of Equestria’s future. The situation was only getting worse and the pressure to deal with it was becoming unbearable, ready to break her at any moment.

Maybe she should— no. She couldn’t. The other Princesses needn’t concern themselves with this.

Cadance had a foal on the way. Twilight was still getting used to her role as a new Princess. Luna… she wouldn’t lose her sister again.

She could notify her subjects, get them more involved, but they deserved to be spared from the horrors of these invaders caused. They deserved to live peaceful lives. If the majority could have that, who was she to destroy it?

Besides, Celestia had taken this burden alone for over a thousand years. What was a thousand years more?

Last report in the stack.

She read it over. A rare genuine smile graced her lips.

Despite setbacks, the DOM Initiative would be officially ready for testing soon. The giddiness that welled up inside of her brought her hope for the future of her subjects. Soon, Equestria would have the tools needed to turn the tides against these monsters that invaded her country.

And she wouldn’t stop until all of her little ponies could live in peace.

Clover Pavilion

Mr. Greenhooves, or Green as his few friends liked to call him, was a simple pony. He wore plain work clothes over his dusty brown fur to do his job, had simple hobbies like checkers in the park, and lived a mostly carefree life. He was not the type to contemplate mysteries on any meaningful level, and, most importantly, he didn’t ask questions.

Green was Celestia’s personal gardener. Well, one of three. Each of her gardeners tended to one of the distinctive special care areas around the castle grounds. These restricted areas were, of course, not to be confused with the public gardens. The latter was enjoyed by both visitors and general maintenance. The prior wasn't.

Now, Green did not get a special title and he wasn’t recognized as one of the special gardeners (general maintenance certainly didn’t give him any special consideration outside of basic insults) in public. He cared for the Clover Pavilion. It was one of the biggest of the three and required careful and deliberate instructions given directly by the Solar Princess herself that must be followed. To. The. Letter.

And his orders were fairly straightforward.

Order One. Do not ask questions. Easy enough. He didn’t like to know answers.

Order Two. Do not listen to anything that is told to you while in the Pavilion, including from the Princess herself. He was hard of hearing, so even if someone wanted to tell him something, he probably couldn’t hear them anyway.

Order Three. Bury everything, no matter what. A task he and his shovel Cutie Mark happily performed whenever able. Why, he was even burying Something right now.

“RELEASE ME.”

Green shoveled another mound of dirt onto the… Something. He called it ‘Something’ because it was vaguely like a squid, kind of like a fox, and sort of like an egg. None of these things meshed well together at all, and in lieu of comprehension of what in Tartarus this thing was, Something did all the heavy lifting required.

Additionally, he was bound to Order One. Thus, he had no interest in answering the question of the Something meaning that he might as well have not heard anything at all.

“I WILL UNMAKE YOU.”

Another mound of dirt was added to the pile. This time, the Something spluttered as mud went into its… mouth? Green was going to settle on ‘mouth’ if only because there was not a single word that could possibly describe it otherwise.

“I WILL FIND THE FLYING MENACE FIRST, THEN I WILL COME BACK FOR YOU.”

Green presumed the Flying Menace was the guard that had come in earlier to deliver the Something. Weapon Point something or other. Or was it Spearbutt? Didn’t matter. The hulking pony had brought the Something, so Green buried it as per Order 3. That was the very important job he had been assigned to do, and getting to know his coworkers was not part of that.

Though, Green did remember a lot about him (them? He was bad at telling ponies apart) because he was rude. Earlier, he had stomped into his garden, leaving non-garden regulation mud tracks and red gore from whatever it was that was splattered across most of his body. He’d cleaned off with a towel (the GOOD one, which he was loath to let him use, but Green didn’t feel like testing the Something-killing blood-covered guard’s patience), dumped the Something right in front of him, and trotted back with nary a word.

That guard was an odd one, and Green hoped that the current Captain of the Guard (Glitter Armour or Shining Plate?) eventually realized not to trust that smiling face and the large amount of innuendo that spilled forth from his mouth.

The Captain, however, had proven to be rather dense, since he had definitely not realized that his subordinates regularly commit unspeakable acts against incomprehensible beings in the name of the Solar Crown… or perhaps the guard was very good at hiding his true self, but that attributed an amount of competence to a pony that Green didn’t like. Regardless, that particular guard was set to retire soon, and then Green would hopefully get a more polite guard that didn’t use his GOOD towels.

“I AM THE ONE WHO WILL SWALLOW THE SUN.”

Three Somethings prior had claimed that within the last week. One before had wanted the moon. Two others had a penchant for the ocean. One particularly sick monstrosity had wanted to eat all the donuts that had ever existed and, though Green was loath to mix personal vendettas with his duty of burying things he had no interest in understanding, he had taken some amount of pleasure in burying that one bottom up. Or on its side. It was very difficult to understand the positioning of Somethings.

“ANSWER ME YOU INFERNAL GARDENER. TELL ME YOUR NAME SO THAT I MAY UNDO YOU.”

Answering the questions of a Something went against Order Two. Trying to comprehend why it wanted to know his name went against Order One. Thus, as far as Green was concerned, nothing had been said at all.

Another mound of dirt was dropped onto the pile.

“TALK. SPEAK. ANSWER ME! DO AS I SAY YOU DAMNABLE GARDENER. KNOW THAT YOU—”

The last heap of dirt was shoveled onto the pile, cutting off the words that hadn’t been said, by a creature that hadn’t been there to fulfill the Princess’s request to grow another bed of flowers in one of her private pavilions at a time that was certainly reasonable and not three in the morning.

Green whacked the mound a few times with his shovel for good measure, then threw the tool back onto his wagon. He grabbed a pot of standard clover, then set about planting them in the new flower bed with the special fertilizer.

After the clover was securely rooted in its new home, Green pressed his hooves into the soil and released a pulse of magic. The clover glowed a soft green before a crunching sound began to emanate throughout the pavilion.

Shortly thereafter, an ear-piercing screech that defied comprehension shattered the calm serenity of the night.

Well, except that the horrid sound came from the pavilion. Order 2 meant that he couldn’t hear the scream, and, even if he did, Order 1 dictated that he was not to question why a flower bed would be screaming. Thus, Green could conclude that there was no screech at all within the pavilion and he could hear nothing.

The clover glowed brightly, then very naturally grew several sizes bigger. It joined the rest of its brethren within the field of flowers that was contained within a massive expanse that stretched seemingly endlessly toward the palace walls in every direction.

Of course, despite this, he knew it would take less than a minute to return to the castle proper, which meant the garden was not endlessly expanding and, even if it was, Green would refer back to Order 1.

His job was done as per Order 3 and would be until the next Something came to his territory, at which point he would fulfill his obligations to follow the Orders once more.

As he packed away his tools, his mind (which did not seem to agree with his viewpoint of nothing being present in the pavilion) went over past memories of Somethings that had been seared into his brain. Horrors beyond recognition that would plague his nightmares and thoughts regardless of his stubborn adherence to the Orders set by the Princess.

Regret began to creep in. He had taken this job for its opportunities, but had paid the price in his sanity regardless of how much he tried to deny the abominations that he was subjected to every day. Would he ever find peace? Would he one day have a nightscape devoid of these nonsensical terrors?

Probably not. But talking about it helped, and that was why he had a palace-designated therapist.

Suppressed existential dread did love company.

Cosmic Love

Author's Note

Content Warning
Blood, Erasure, Body Horror

Cosmic Love

Flash looked over his appearance in a mirror. He swept back his mane with a wing, taking the time to double check the studs he’d pinned into his ears were in their proper place. His jacket hung loose over his form, making his lean frame look bigger than it was.

He looked hot as Tartarus. His next date was going to drool over him, because who wouldn’t over a pegasus as fine as Flash Sentry?

Screaming reverberated from the other room. He ignored it.

Grabbing his saddlebags and keys from the front door stand, he threw the prior over his back and the latter into his jacket pocket.

“Open the door! For the love of Celestia, open the door!” A muffled voice shouted through the bedroom door.

“Don’t play with your food, babe,” Flash called back, his voice raspy. “Drawing it out doesn’t make it taste better.”

A ting resounded through the house. Like a metronome being struck by a metal baseball bat. It didn’t resound on a physical level, but within his mind. Several other sounds echoed through his mindscape, before the bedroom went quiet.

Whomever had been screaming was gone.

Flash tried to recall who had been in the bedroom with his paramour, but he couldn’t remember any details about them. Not even an exact name. He was sure it had been something like Brick or Bulwark or some other B word, but it didn’t really matter.

“I’ll be back tonight,” Flash said. “Hopefully with another stallion in tow. If not, I’ll still be home.”

“Good… luck,” a Something said through the bedroom door.

He was giddy. That had been the first words his love had been able to speak in a week since that abomination had harmed him enough to require giving up his physical form. It was still off, the cadence wasn’t right, and the volume wasn’t there, but it was a good sign that his beloved was on the mend.

“Thanks!” Flash replied.

He trotted out the door with a spring in his step.

Flash entered the bakery, taking a deep whiff of the tantalizing smells. It was a cozy place with homemade goodies that tasted just like what you’d find on your grandparents’ kitchen counter. It was his favourite place to go for a date, as they also made the best pies in Canterlot.

Sitting in a corner, nervously sliding a spoon across the table, was his guard buddy and date Mounted Defense. He was a bulky Earth pony with a swoop of light brown mane complimented by his dusty brown fur. He was wearing what he probably thought were nice clothes (they were not) and looked ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

He walked toward his date. Mount noticed his approach, and his entire demeanor changed. He came to life with a brilliant smile that, if Flash wasn’t already taken, he’d probably come to adore.

“Flash, you made it!” Mount said, then corrected, “I mean, obviously you would, since you said you would be here. I didn’t mean to presume that you would bail or something, which isn’t to say that you’re obligated to come, just—!” He cut off his babble with a cough. “It’s great to see you.”

Taking the seat across from him, Flash gave him a beaming smile. “Great to see you too, Mount.”

There was a swish sound from under the table. Flash noticed that Mount’s tail was wagging behind him. He almost felt bad about what he was about to do to the poor guy, but Mount was on the list and he’d heard that Mount had a years-long crush on him, which made him a perfect target.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mount nodded his head, his back hooves tapping the wood floor. “You’re looking really good today. I mean, you look good everyday, but especially today, though—” He narrowed his eyes at Flash “—you seem kind of… smaller? Did you lose weight or something?”

“Been going hard on cardio recently. Felt like a change of pace,” Flash easily lied. He gave a suggestive grin. “Course, what matters is still as big as ever.”

Mount stiffened in place. “I-it is, huh?” He laughed. It sounded like a bagpipe having the air squeezed out of it. “Looking forward to seeing it later.”

“Wow. That’s pretty forward of you,” Flash teased.

“N-no, I didn’t mean—!” Mount fumbled. “I mean, yeah, but I wanted to get to that after a few dates. N-not to presume that—!”

“You’re surprisingly confident, Mount,” Flash said. “I would never be so bold to assume I’d get another date when we haven’t even finished this one.”

Mount sunk into his seat, covering his head with his hooves to hide his embarrassment. “I-I didn’t mean it like that…”

Flash chuckled.

“Can I get you gentlecolts anything?”

They turned toward the unicorn server that had approached their table, notepad hovering in their magic.

“Slice of apple pie,” Flash answered.

“...Strawberry tart for me, please.” Mount looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Will be out shortly,” the server said.

Once the server was gone, Flash asked, “What’s with the look?”

“I thought you didn’t like pie,” Mount said.

“I didn’t. Then I tried some recently and found I actually liked it,” Flash explained. “So, I decided to try a new flavour today to continue the trend.”

“Okay.” The suspicion left Mount’s face. “Oh, did you hear about the new disappearance?”

“Work talk on a date, huh?” Flash teased. “How romantic.”

“I-I don’t really know how to start these kinds of conversations,” Mount stuttered.

“Just teasing, Mount,” Flash replied. “Also, no. I haven’t.”

“R-right.” Mount cleared his throat. “We got a report this morning from the night officers. A stallion has gone missing like the others these past two weeks. No records, just some nobody off the street that was reported by a building owner downtown.”

“Interesting. I think my superior officer had actually mentioned that yesterday.” After he yelled at Flash about improper procedure and how he needed to get his act back together. Again. “Seems like a cold case.”

Mount sighed. “Yeah, looks like it. No traces. No documentation. Not even any real descriptors since we couldn’t find anyone that knew his appearance outside of some vague ideas of what he looked like.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“It is, but…” Mount leaned in closer “I have a theory.”

“Oh?”

“I think it's connected to the disappearance of that Wonderbolt.”

“You think they’re related?”

“Maybe?” Mount said uncertainly. “He disappeared similarly to this case and the last couple. Just gone without any trace.”

“But unlike this victim, there’s a ton of information about him,” Flash said.

“Yeah, there is, but maybe this was the culprit’s first ponynapping case and he got better over time?”

“Or they’re unrelated.”

Mount deflated. “You think it’s a long shot?”

“I think you need more evidence,” Flash said. The server dropped their desserts in front of them. “Don’t drop the potential lead, but maybe keep it to yourself until you have more to support your theory.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Mount took a bite of his tart. He moaned in pleasure. “Damn this is good.”

“Best pastries in town.” Flash leaned forward. “You know, if you finish soon we can go do that shopping we planned to do or—” He stroked Mount’s leg with his own under the table. A shiver of delight passed over Mount’s body. “—We could go to my place for a different kind of dessert.”

In lieu of an answer, Mount began to eat his tart at a fervent pace.

Mount sounded like a foghorn. Each exhale of breath shook the couch they had entangled themselves on. Flash was a light sleeper, and Mount was making it impossible to actually rest. He disentangled himself from Mount’s hooves and got off the couch. They’d ended up there after a round of heated ‘passion’, or whatever you were supposed to call Mount’s mindless thrusting.

He glanced at Mount’s form. His dusty brown fur had already become a bit more gray, his mane closer to white. Close proximity with his paramour had already begun the process, so Flash only had to continue to string Mount along. Waking up in his hooves would help keep his obsession strong, but loneliness tugged at Flash’s heart that night.

Flash trotted toward the bedroom door attached to the living room. It was locked, with the usual excuse that he didn’t like showing guests how messy it was inside.

Leaning his head against the door, ear flat, he listened. Mount’s loud snoring faded away, to be replaced by a rhythmic thumping. The beating of a heart. His own soon followed, syncing up with the steady rhythm and making him feel like there wasn’t as much distance between him and his love.

Against his better judgement, he laid down at the foot of the door, pressing as much of his body up against the wood as he was able to.

He wanted more, but they both knew that physical contact had to wait until his beloved regained his physical form for Flash’s own safety.

Another stallion or two and he would be restored. He should have felt some form of guilt for what he did, but none of that mattered in the face of aching in his heart. The crippling gap of loneliness.

A single oily black tendril slipped under the door. It wrapped itself tenderly around Flash’s hoof. It burned, singing the fur slightly at the touch, but the gesture was more than welcome.

Flash smiled, feeling less lonely. He drifted off to sleep.

“What can I get for you?”

Flash gave the server a wide smile. “Slice of cherry pie.”

“Coming right up,” the server said.

They turned to leave.

“One moment,” Flash interrupted.

“Yes?”

“You haven’t taken my friend’s order.” Flash gestured with a hoof to his companion on the other side of the table.

The server looked confused. He looked in the indicated direction then widened his eyes in surprise.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t… see you,” the server awkwardly finished. “What can I get for you?”

Mount stared blankly forward. He looked tired. His fur had dulled to a dirty gray, his mane had turned white and was matted with sweat. Each breath he took was a labour of effort for his sunken body.

“...It’s fine,” Mount said. Just those two words had seemed like the equivalent of trying to lift a loaded cart off the ground. “I’ll have…” he trailed off.

“A strawberry tart,” Flash finished for him.

“I’ll grab that with your pie slice.”

The server left.

“... Sorry,” Mount said.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Flash replied.

“No, I… I’ve been feeling… under the…” Mount furrowed his brow, searching for the right words. “...weather?”

“Everybody feels bad sometimes. It’s pony.” Flash rubbed Mount’s leg with his own for comfort.

“...Yeah.” A small smile spread on Mount’s face. “I just… I’m so glad… No family or… work. I have… you.”

“Hey, we’ll get you back on your hooves in no time,” Flash lied. “Maybe the Guard would take you?”

“Can’t.” Mount weakly shook his head. “Tried… too many…”

“Then something less demanding. Maybe the hobby shop? We could go tomorrow. I think I saw a help wanted sign there.”

“Sounds… nice.”

Flash leaned forward, a loving expression plastered on his face. “Let’s finish up here and go back home so you can rest. Maybe I can even help you feel better? Forget your troubles for a while?”

“That would be… thank you.”

They left the cafe, desserts uneaten. That was the last day that a stallion known as Mounted Defense ever existed.

Flash leaned against the bedroom door. Climb or something had just been taken by his paramour. There had been the expected screaming and begging, but Flash had hardly cared.

No one would have missed him even if they could remember him. His own superior had sold him out to them for abusing his position. Tampering with evidence to fit his conspiracies about captured ponies. Or his superior just hadn’t liked him and used this as an excuse to remove him, permanently. Either way, it got what Flash wanted, so he hardly cared.

A tendril was wrapped around his hoof, slowly burning his flesh. It was less black now, more orange in colour.

A good sign, but one that did not quell his aching heart. It had been too long since they had last held each other, since he’d even seen the love of his life. This idle comfort was nothing compared to the ability to be able to hold his warm body close. To feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

How much longer did he have to wait?

“One more,” his paramour said.

“Really?” Flash said, hope bridging life to his voice.

“One more and I’ll be able to physically manifest,” his love confirmed. His voice sounded better, closer to what it was supposed to be.

“Okay, I got the list. I’ll track someone down tomorrow. Another few days—”

“No, tomorrow night,” his lover interrupted. “I can control myself again and I’m sick of waiting. I want to touch you again.”

Flash’s heart soared. “O-Of course! I can even grab someone—”

“Not tonight.”

“But—”

“I want you near me tonight and not with someone else.”

Flash curled tighter around the tentacle, ignoring the pain that followed.

“I-I didn’t even know that you—” Brilliant Mind coughed, his face turning bright red. “—I’m just s-surprised you were interested.”

He wasn’t, but Flash could lie with a wide smile and a flick of his tail to show Brilliant what he craved. The stallion choked. It was too easy. Flash was a stallion of adoration, which was to be expected, because he loved Flash more than anything.

“Nonsense, Brill. I love how adorkable you are,” Flash lied. “So, do you wanna chat first or…?”

Instead of replying, Brilliant squeezed his butt with a hoof. He looked at Flash with what might have been the grossest expression he had ever seen and wiggled his eyebrows. There hadn’t been any real mention of why Brilliant had been on the list, but Flash was beginning to get a good idea now.

“Then right to the fun part then,” Flash said.

They trotted into Flash’s house with Flash in the lead. He beelined to the bedroom, bringing out his keys to unlock the door.

“You lock your bedroom?” Brilliant asked.

“It’s really messy and I usually don’t like stallions poking around,” Flash replied. “But I’ll make an exception for you.”

An overconfident grin. The kind he probably thought was sexy but came off as sleazy and disgusting. Thankfully, that would be fixed soon.

The bedroom opened into a dark, normal looking bedroom.

“Wait inside,” Flash said. “I’m going to get us a little surprise in the kitchen.”

“Hurry back,” Brilliant said, the nervousness replaced with misplaced confidence. “Don’t want you to miss any prime time with me.”

Flash suppressed the eye roll and trotted to the kitchen. As he crossed the threshold, a loud scream resounded through the apartment. Blasts of magic mixed with unnatural sounds that reverberated on a plane not of this world.

For his part, he began to cut up a fruit and vegetable platter to snack on.

He looked up through the window divider between the kitchen and living room. Brilliant was desperately trying to claw his way out of the bedroom. His face was twisted into pained fear as tendrils and claws attempted to drag him back in. Wisps of smoke emitted from whenever the tendrils touched him on his body.

Unlike the case with the prior few stallions, Brilliant was being devoured at a rapid pace. His body shriveled into taut skin over bones. His fur faded to a dull grey. His Cutie Mark dissolved off his rump like paint in water. He cried and screamed as his facial features smoothed over, his head turning into a blank featureless blob.

Flash could feel his memory fade about Bright Stack or whoever they were. He was being erased from existence. His identity being fed into the reconstruction of his lover’s physical form. All Flash could really remember about him was that he’d been gross and that he was glad the stallion was gone.

With a final scream, the stallion was pulled into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

Grabbing the finished plate of hors d’oeuvres. Flash made his way back to the living room and plopped himself onto the couch.

After what felt like an eternity, the bedroom opened. Flash Sentry, the real one, stepped out. He slinked toward the fake Flash Sentry, an easygoing smile on his lips. He held himself up high, as he should, towering over the fake and exuding pure confidence.

Fake Flash could feel heat race through his body in anticipation.

“I made some snacks,” Fake Flash said. “I thought you’d like to eat something that wasn’t screaming at you first.”

Flash grabbed the plate with a wing, and placed it gently on the floor. He stepped onto the couch and pushed Fake Flash onto his back. Flash’s bulk easily encompassed the lesser Flash’s, entrapping him amongst his limbs and wings.

“Are you ready to drop the disguise?” Flash asked. His voice was smooth and husky, with an undercurrent of something darker under the surface. “I long to see you as you again instead of this lesser copy of myself.”

“Anything you want, love,” Fake Flash replied, his voice dripping with equal amounts obsession, lust, and adoration.

He held up a hoof. It morphed into a three-pronged claw like that of a griffin’s. He plunged one clawed tip into Fake Flash’s forehead, then tore down. It was excruciating. Like having tape torn off his entire furred body.

Yet, despite the pain, he couldn’t have been more in pleasurable bliss.

Sky blue fur. Dark blue mane. A Cutie Mark of a lightning bolt piercing a cloud. Soaring Skies, or Soarin as he preferred, panted heavily as Flash tore off the remainder of the skin and tossed it away. The brittle husk crumbled into flakes as it floated to the ground.

“I finally see you,” Flash said, heavy with emotion.

Soarin grasped Flash’s transformed limb. It pricked his exposed skin, drawing small pools of blood. Flash brought the hoof to his face, smearing the blood along one side of his face.

“It’s been too long, babe,” Soarin replied.

They kissed, hunger driving them toward equal measures of pain and pleasure. They were finally together again.

Pumpkin Party

Author's Note

Content Warnings
Gore. Bad Pumpkins. Death

Pumpkin Party

Ponyville Bulletin

Adult stallion missing. Spice Latte. Light brown fur. Short cropped orange mane. Cutie Mark of a pumpkin with a cinnamon stick. If found, contact his family at the address noted below.

Schluck. The grotesque sound caused Big Mac to flinch. It was the horrible resulting sound of innards being scooped out and dumped into a garbage bag with a loud plop. Like the worst clock imaginable, it happened without fail around the same time in the same month every year, and he loathed it. It brought memories he tried to forget to the forefront of his mind, dragging down his mental well-being into a dark pit of regret and self-blame.

Apple Bloom, on the other hoof, was pleased as punch as she continued to messily splatter pumpkin guts all over herself and the surrounding kitchen as she carved out her helpless gourd, giggling like a madmare.

“Get more in the bag and less on yer face, Bloom,” Applejack said from her side, her own gourd in the process of being scooped.

Big Mac nodded.

“I ain’t that messy!” Bloom protested, stringy guts hanging from her bow.

“Uh huh, and I’m an ace flier for the Wonderbolts.” Applejack rolled her eyes.

Big Mac shook his head.

“You know ya got important school stuff later today and yer… Well, no point tryin’ to getcha cleaned up before yer done with that mess,” Applejack said. “Finish guttin’ her out then we’ll getcha in the bath.”

“But I don’t want to—”

“I ain’t askin’,” Applejack interrupted.

Big Mac nodded.

Bloom puffed out her cheeks. Her annoyance, however, didn’t last long, as she began giggling once again as she continued her vile machinations. Each new schluck pierced like a knife through his ears.

Applejack trotted away with a weary sigh to deal with something elsewhere, leaving the two of them alone together. In the quiet, the wet, sloppy sounds of gourd massacre filled the room. It took everything Big Mac had to keep his breakfast firmly in his stomach. Seeing past victims lined up on the countertop like some sick head display wasn’t helping matters.

“You gonna carve a pumpkin too, Mac?” Bloom suddenly asked.

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

He shook his head more vigorously.

Bloom paused her mad work and glared at her brother. “Granny says ya can’t just head shake your way outta conversations.”

“Granny ain’t here,” Big Mac retorted in a way only siblings could.

Now annoyed, Bloom returned to her work, scooping out the innards with renewed vigour. Schlucks came faster and faster as the table was coated in stringy pumpkin pulp mixed with seeds. The kitchen began to look like a butcher’s table with how coated it was in the poor vegetable’s guts.

He wanted nothing more than for it all to be over.

“What’s the sour look fer, Bloom?” Granny asked as she trotted into the kitchen.

Bloom huffed.

“Yer early,” Mac remarked.

“Committee finished their stuff ahead of schedule. For once.” Granny rolled her eyes. “Now, no huffing. What’s got yer face twisted up like that?”

“Mac won’t carve a pumpkin and he won’t tell me why,” Bloom said.

“Oh,” Granny’s expression soured worse than her namesake. “That.”

“That what?” Bloom asked.

“Yer brother ain’t been fond of pumpkin carving due to an incident when he was around your age,” Granny said. There was a dark undercurrent to her voice that chilled the room. “Ain’t nothin’ worth retelling.”

“Aw, but—”

“No, buts,” Granny interrupted. “Finish scoopin’ out yer pumpkin so we can get to carvin’ it up like the others.”

Big Mac glanced at the ‘others’. Each had an over-exaggerated expression of terror on their faces that Mac felt he shared with them. The whole display brought back memories of the screams and awful scent of rotted remains, filling his senses with their horrid echoes.

The memories were stronger this year, like they were warning him that it would happen again. That it would return. He desperately hoped that his instinct was wrong and that another uneventful year would pass.

Ponyville Bulletin

Spiced Latte has been found dead by the main road leading to Whitetail Woods. Residents are urged to report any suspicious activity to the Ponyville Police.

Another pony, Sea Crest, has gone missing. Mare. Light blue fur. Cyan mane. Cutie Mark of a wave crest. If found, contact her family at the address noted below.

“It ain’t right,” Applejack said as she clutched a mug of cider between her hooves. She shook her head. “It just ain’t right.”

“I-is it about the body they found?” Bloom asked.

“...It is,” Applejack replied. “But it ain’t somethin’ you should know. Tartarus, I don’t think I should know.”

“That poor soul,” Granny muttered. “Ain’t nobody deserve that.”

Big Mac nodded his head.

Despite the sunny autumn afternoon, there was a chill to the house, mired by the knowledge of the unspeakable things that just took place. It was worse for Big Mac, who had a piece of knowledge the others did not.

He felt it to his bones that this would not be the last, and that it must be it’s doing. Despite his want to deny it, he’d seen the body. It was just the same as the last time it had rolled its ugly head into town.

This time though, it wouldn’t take away more of his family.

“Come straight home after school this week, Bloom,” Big Mac said.

“Y-yeah, I guess with what happened I shouldn’t be out much,” Bloom said.

“And no Nightmare Night,” Big Mac added.

“Wait, what?!” Bloom slammed her hooves on the table. “But—!”

“No Nightmare Night!” Big Mac shot back.

Bloom turned to the rest of her family with pleading eyes.

“...I don’t agree with how he said it, but can’t say I like you out with whatever did that out and about,” Applejack said.

“It's for the best, Bloom,” Granny added.

“That’s— that’s—!” Bloom growled in frustration. “Now, I won’t get to do anythin’ fun this year!”

She stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, each creak in the floorboard marking her passage before a slam signified that she had barricaded herself into her room.

Even if she hated him, this was for the best.

Ponyville Bulletin

Sea Crest has been found in the same state as Spice Latte. Another pony, Lax Chill, has gone missing. Stallion. White mane. Blue coat. Cutie Mark of an ice cube. If found, contact his family at the address noted below.

In lieu of events, all Nightmare Night events have been canceled and residents are urged to stay indoors. If you must go out, please make sure to go in pairs.

Canterlot has been contacted. An investigative team will be here tomorrow morning. Stay safe.

Big Mac hung his front legs over the porch railing. Granny had gone into the town for an emergency committee meeting and Applejack was out harvesting the fields, with Rainbow Dash keeping her company. It was mid-afternoon. The sun was beginning its slow descent past the horizon.

Bloom wasn’t home from school yet.

She could be held up by her friends or teacher. She could have exhausted herself at school and walked slower that day. She could have made a pitstop by Sugarcube Corner, where Pinkie Pie could be keeping her busy with too much conversation and sweets.

Or that thing had his baby sister.

He hefted himself off the railing and cantered down the road leading from Sweet Apple Acres and into town. Halfway there, he saw tracks in the dirt. Two ditches curved off into the woods as if something dragged two small shapes into the undergrowth.

A canter turned into a gallop as he charged into the fringes, uncaring of the sharp branches that scratched him. His ears perked as he heard a shrill scream. He ran faster, his breath haggard.

Bursting through the overgrowth, he came upon an open grove.

Memories came back to him. His grandfather, Spartan Apple, devoured by a monstrous beast, torn piece-by-piece by its tendrils as he screamed for Big Mac to run. He quickly shook off the haze of memories snapping reality back into sharp focus.

He noticed the remains of a colt nearby. His innards had already been thrown into the thing’s bleeding mouth, orange juice leaking around the jagged hole. He’d been scooped, just like the monster’s prior victims. Big Mac could hear the schluck as the creature did to the colt’s remains as it had to his grandfather, cleaving through flesh to get to the morsels of its sick feast.

His sister was ensnared nearby, bawling her eyes out. She had been splattered with her friend’s gore and was wailing as loud as she could, calling for help. She noticed him.

“Help me, Mac!” She screamed.

The abomination finally noticed too. Big Mac took in the entirety of the horror, his eyes forced to take in its grotesque appearance despite his best efforts to not focus on its form. A singular deflated-looking pumpkin covered in tumorous smaller pumpkins, all carved with faces in the midst of pure agony. Thorny vines grew from its base, lashing at nearby foliage.

He could hear the sloshing. The moist roiling sound of its stolen innards. Through carved holes, he could see the abomination was nearly full from harvesting the organs of its victims. So full that some of its ill-gotten gains spilled from openings in its flesh, tinted a strange orange from an unknown glow inside. It smelled rancid. Like the meat he had once smelled in the Griffin Market in Canterlot that had been left out in the sun for far too long.

“The red one returns,” one of the pumpkins moaned.

“Such a good child,” another whispered.

“We have no quarrel with the red one,” another pumpkin added.

“W H A T D O E S I T W A N T?” the main pumpkin wheezed.

“Let my sister go,” Big Mac said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

“Why should we?” a pumpkin replied.

“The little yellow one has been bad,” one hoarsely whispered.

“It must be punished,” another chimed in.

“W E N E E D S U S T E N A N C E,” the main pumpkin intoned.

“If ya need someone, take me!” Big Mac pleaded.

“You have been good,” a pumpkin said.

“This one has not,” another added.

“It is better food,” another noted.

“W E G R O W I M P A T I E N T,” the big pumpkin intoned.

The abomination began to drag Bloom toward it. She screamed. Big Mac raced forward, helpless tears clouding his vision as he grabbed onto his sister. He latched on with his hooves while using his teeth to bite through the bitter tasting vines. Blood flowed freely from his mouth as it was cut on the thorns, but he ignored it.

Despite his efforts, she was being pulled closer and closer toward the monster. At this rate, he was going to lose another member of his family like Spartan before her. He had grown strong in his stallionhood, yet in the face of this creature he might as well have been his foalhood self.

Then the vines snapped. The monster screamed. The vines that had once entrapped Bloom went slack. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.

“Get’er home, Mac.”

He turned to see his Granny. Her eyes had a dangerous glint to them he couldn’t place. Big Mac looked at the monstrosity and saw that it was pierced by several rotten roots of wood. He wanted to question where they had come from, but his sister was crying and his Granny had given him an order.

Scooping Apple Bloom onto his back, he ran back toward home.

“Spartan’s death ain’t yer fault, Mac,” Granny called after him. “None of it ever was.”

Fresh tears fell from his face.

Applejack, Big Mac and Apple Bloom hung their legs over the porch, their hooves dangling over the railing. Applejack had joined them soon after they’d gotten back to the farmhouse and, after being filled in on what happened, had bandaged them both up. They watched as the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared over the horizon.

“...I’m never carving a pumpkin again,” Bloom said.

“I second that,” Applejack added.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac said.

“Do ya think Granny is okay?” Bloom asked.

Silence. Big Mac thought about the look in his Granny’s eyes and the strange roots that had pierced the body of the abomination. Though he had nothing but his gut instinct to follow, he felt certain she would come back.

If nothing else, she had to. She just… had to.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac replied.

Applejack hesitated, then added, “Y-yep. Definitely, Bloom.”

“...Can we wait for her here?”

In response, Big Mac and Applejack leaned against their younger sister, providing cover from the chill of the early evening and dread in their hearts.

Then they waited.

Skin Couture

Author's Note

Content Warnings
Implied Skinning, Blood

Skin Couture

Coco Pommel awoke, disturbed by some sound that had invaded her dreamscape. Ignoring it, she instead buried herself within a soft embrace. Pure, unstained.

Light and sound filtered through thin white curtains from her bedroom’s bay window, beckoning her to the world of the waking. She spurned its call. She preferred to stay where she was amidst the most perfect embrace.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The incessant banging forced her further out of her dream-like state. It broke the illusion and showed the perfect lie for it was: silk sheets and a pillow. They were the best on the market, the softest material one could buy. But it was a falsehood. One born of her groggy state and subconscious desperation.

She tossed the sheets aside in disgust. It was not the touch she sought. No, the softest touch one could ever find was gentler than silk and sturdier than broadcloth. It was a sensation unmatched by any ponymade material and granted the greatest comfort at the merest touch.

A mare. Nothing could ever hope to compete with it.

These paltry fabrics were a balm to a grievous wound. A bandage for a severed limb. It was a facsimile, a falsehood that sowed seeds of discontent within herself as the truth of the matter sunk into her.

Discontent turned to disdain, and further built itself into frustration. Sorrow filled in the gaps and irritation came to join at being stuck with such inferiority. She wanted perfection, not near perfection.

Wallowing within this mix of negative emotions, a thought came to her mind. Then all the disappointment washed away, leaving her once more pure and unsullied with sorrow. She had already found a solution to her predicament. She only had to go get it.

Coco got out of bed and trotted through her single bedroom apartment and toward her private studio, a wide smile threatening to split her face in two.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Heavy impacts against her apartment door caused her to stop just before the threshold to her own personal paradise. Crude knocks were reminders of the real world, obligations outside of comforting fantasy. She upturned her nose at it. They were all problems to be dealt with later once her desires were sated.

Sashaying into the room, she found herself within her dominion. White wood floors with whitewashed walls splashed with hints of floral pink. Shelves and shelves of muted, dull fabrics. Tables loaded with unused tools and outfits. A central stage lined with ponyquinns, untouched by cloth for what had now been weeks. Concepts and dreams littering the floor as crumpled balls of paper.

But none of this mattered. Only her love.

Placed prominently at the forefront of the room was a white ponyquinn, upon which laid her newest creation. It had been made in a single night, her tired body pushed by the throws of creative fervour after meeting her benefactor. Though a stallion, his birth meant nothing compared to the gift he had given her.

Red stains splattered the wood floor around a gorgeous dress like loose flower petals. The dress was bright pink with purple highlights. A one piece, strapless gown made from the softest material. The bodice was patterned with red fruit, the ruffles made to look like decadent cake frosting. It was designed to hug every curve, to embrace the wearer in its superior feel.

It was bold. It was ambitious. It was the perfect feel.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Ignoring the increasingly insistent knocking, she approached the dress in reverence. She brushed a hoof along one sleeve. A shiver of delight raced through her body at the soft feel of the material.

She took the dress off the ponyquinn and began to pull it on herself. It stretched gracefully over her form, made exact to her proportions. Her heart pounded in her ears, a frantic chorus to the immense pleasure she felt. She relished the touch of the fabric, like loving phantom caresses along her figure.

Coco fell back onto the floor with a gasp, her emotions overcoming her balance. She pressed her hooves against her heart, willing it to slow down for fear of it bursting. She felt hot, overheated despite the cool temperature of her abode. Memories overwhelmed her as she reminisced about her love.

Long walks through the parks of Manehattan.

Discussions about her love’s discontent at home and the joy upon visiting her dear friend amongst the city lights.

Giggled whispers and brushed contact that hinted at their underlying feelings for each other.

Coco breathed raggedly, overcome with pleasure. Nothing mattered more in that moment than the dress. The culmination of desire and lust blossomed into true love. Nothing could match how she felt in this dress. Nothing.

Her love’s touch.

Her love’s skin.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She frowned. The knocks had grown from background noise to foreground annoyance. They were louder, more gruff. The insistent power of some loser stallion with more brawn than brain. Or perhaps the grace of a larger mare, but Coco could never be so lucky.

She stood up and trotted to a nearby mirror. She would continue to ignore the call of reality, wanting to stay within this moment of bliss.

In the reflection, she looked to be in bliss. Flushed face and a content smile marred only by the occasional huff of exertion.

Perfectly framed between her neckline and the bodice of the dress was the gift of her benefactor. An orange bolt of cloth shaped into the form of a pair of puckered lips. The Brand had liberated her. Pushed her to give into the desires she had forsaken. It was freedom, imprinted onto her very flesh. No amount of gratitude could ever be enough for being so blessed.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She stomped her hoof in annoyance, whipping her head toward the front door with a look of pure fury on her face.

The interloper was interrupting her time with her dearest love. She had a good idea of who may be knocking on her door, and wanted nothing more than for the stallion to drop off the nearest balcony and splatter across the pavement below so as she may never have to be burdened with his presence ever again.

Although.

Marriage had been important to her friend. Despite her misgivings over their union, she had cared enough to go through with her vows at the altar. Perhaps, her friend would appreciate some company when Coco was unable to be there for her? A matching suit to stave off the possible loneliness?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Yes, that is what she would do. A matching ensemble. A gift for her dear love so she may stay with her subpar boorish husband when she could not be with her superior paramour.

She grasped a pair of bloodied scissors that had been discarded in the fervour of last night, clenched tightly between her teeth. The stained blade gleamed in the light, its edge still retained despite the harrowing work it had already gone through.

Coco trotted toward the door, purpose in her steps. She was a mare in love, and that meant that she needed to provide what her paramour required.

The perfect touch. A touch to always be with her.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She opened the door.

On the Suitability of Certain Horticulture

Wallflower Blush was not the type to be caught up in the artistry of gardening. They were plants. Certainly they were beautiful and better company than any pony, but the main draw of plants was how practical they were. They stopped erosion, they provided shade, they could be used for medicine, and the list of their uses went on and on forever.

However, even she could begrudgingly recognize the artistic flair of her work in the Arbour Pavilion.

It was one of the three special gardens privately owned by Princess Celestia and tended to by herself. It had taken a lot to get the position, and she relished the relative ownership she had over it. Barring that, she followed the Orders.

The Orders were similar to those of her coworker Mr. Green (whom she admitted was incredibly talented at what he did), but had a few extra steps involved due to the necessities of what was contained in the Arbour Pavilion.

Order One. Do not ask questions. Wallflower never had any interest in asking any, so this suited her just fine.

Order Two. Do not listen to anything that is told to you while in the Pavilion, including from the Princess herself. Wallflower could barely tolerate other ponies, let alone listen to them, and when it came to the Princess herself… she preferred never even seeing her.

And this was where her and Mr. Green’s duties diverged. Whereas Mr. Green only needed to bury, Wallflower’s responsibilities were more involved.

Order Three. Guards will periodically deliver Entities to be planted. Ensure Entities are secured in place before proceeding with further Orders.

Said Guards had indeed delivered a new Entity to be planted, but had proven, once again, that they were useless. They were never the Agents that captured the Something (term stolen from Mr. Green), but the undertrained cleanup crew who were, at best, meat shields.

One such meat shield got swiped by a… claw? Hook? Hand? Something, and was sent careening across the ground with several life-ending cracks. The other three were in various states of unhelpfulness.

It had been completely their fault. Wallflower could have easily restrained the Something when it had been released from its cage, but they insisted that the ‘little filly’ (who was built like a brick wall) should stay out of the way of the ‘big studs’ (who had the musculature of teeangers just out of puberty. Nerdy teenagers).

The earth pony ‘stallion’ of the group was screaming for their mom while latched onto the back of what Wallflower presumed was the Something’s head. Another was fanning it with his wings, which was supposed to do… something. The third was… well, ‘casting’ was a bit too strong of a word to describe what the unicorn was attempting to do. They were flinging half-baked spells at the Something, which basically amounted to a subpar light show.

Wallflower knew what real spellcasting looked like. Sunset—

She launched her magic into the ground and commanded the nearby trees to assist her. Twisted branches grabbed the colts and dropped them off behind her. That meant she could focus solely on the Something.

An entity that, like its predecessors, was very difficult to describe. It was tall, bipedal and looked like an artist’s interpretation of what a Minotaur is. It had… Wallflower still didn’t really know what to call them. Hooks? Hooks, all over its body, even in places that didn’t make any sense. In place of an abdomen was a stove of some kind with no discernible purpose. It was also jacked in a way that showed that the artist didn’t know what functional proportions were.

None of this really mattered, as any clarification would require asking questions, and she was bound by Order 1.

Confirming that the Guards had been saved, she commanded the same trees with her magic to hold the Something in place. Branches darted around the Something’s limbs, binding them in place. Its furnace stomach burst into flame and began to pour out fire across its body (Wallflower now understood its purpose). However, its efforts were futile, as Wallflower ensured that all varieties of trees planted in the Pavillion were deciduous and heavily resistant to flames. Nothing short of Princess Celestia herself was going to burn down her trees.

Imprisonment was all that waited for this abomination.

Order Four. Once firmly rooted, plant a new sapling within the core of Entity. Use magic to rapidly grow into Stage 2 growth. Once sapling is confirmed to have been planted within the Entity, leave overnight to rest.

“...Grab the sapling,” Wallflower told the unicorn colt.

“You could do that this entire time?!” The unicorn exclaimed. “Why didn’t you start with that?!”

Because he called her a little filly. Because he clearly wanted to be a big macho pony. Because he talked down to her. Because he was literally wasting the air around them with his breathing. Because he was incapable of following the simplest of instructions. Because he was a bed wetting, pansy, sniveling, diaper foal, IDI—

“...Grab the sapling,” Wallflower repeated.

The dullard blinked, then followed her command. He levitated a cherry blossom sapling from a cart and moved it toward the Something.

“Now, gently—” the idiotic waste of space slammed it into the Something’s stove torso. Wallflower reminded herself that murder was frowned upon, as was maiming. “...Stay out of the way.”

The trash colt galloped twenty paces away from her along with his two idiotic compatriots. Excessive, but it suited Wallflower, as she didn’t need to deal with them anymore.

Using her magic, she called to the sapling from afar, grasping it at its source. She pumped it with magic, a slow trickle that grew into a crashing wave. It grew in proportion to the rapid increase of magicked fertilizer. Roots burrowed into the Something’s body as it roared in defiance and struggled against its bonds.

But it was on the lower end of monstrosities that found their way into her garden and stood no chance against her.

Wallflower approached the Something. She circled it as it roared at her, checking that the sapling was firmly rooted within it. Satisfied with her work, she commanded two other trees to entangle the Something, just in case, and trotted back toward the guards.

“Can we go now?” the unicorn asked.

Wallflower nodded.

They galloped out of the Pavilion. She rolled her eyes. They just kept getting worse. She missed when she had a competent crew to assist her. When she marginally enjoyed the company of other ponies. When Sunset—

She shook her head. There was no point dwelling on that.

Too sweet. Like everything served in the castle. The tea had been brewed to Celestia’s specifications, which meant it would never sate Wallflower’s more bitterly inclined palette.

Of course, Wallflower knew the real reason it was so sweet. Publicly, the Princess had a massive sweet tooth, but in private, Celestia had told her that it was because poisons tended to dilute the flavour, which meant if it wasn’t sugary sweet, Celestia could immediately know if it was poisoned.

She was seated in the Gardener’s Gazebo at the intersection of the special gardens: Clover, Arbour, and Cornucopia. A lovely place of perpetual sun to relax and be forced to interact with her coworkers in (though Mr. Green was an adequate conversational partner most days).

It had been just the two of them for a while, but they were joined by a third that day that Wallflower couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of and instead called Gardener 3.

“So. Just started today, eh?” Mr. Green asked.

“Yep, and I’m super looking forward to working with all of you,” Gardener 3 said. “Please look after me well, seniors!”

Wallflower gave a noncommittal grunt. Mr. Green was silent. That seemed to take some of the pep out of Gardener 3’s cheer. Good.

“So, ya got yer Orders for the Cornucopia Pavilion?” Mr. Green asked.

“Oh, yeah, but like, you don’t actually follow them to the letter, right?” She waved a hoof. “I’m sure you have, like, shortcuts to get the work done faster?”

Wallflower and Mr. Green shared a knowing look.

“...Follow the Orders,” Wallflower said.

“They’re there for a reason,” Mr. Green added.

“But what if I have questions about the job?” Gardener 3 inquired.

“Ah, listen to this mare. Questions. Worst thing to have.” Mr. Green scoffed. “Better livin’ without any answers, lass.”

Wallflower nodded.

“That’s a workers’ rights violation.” Gardener 3 narrowed her eyes. “You can’t just not ask questions. Also, seriously? ‘Follow the Orders’? That’s your best advice?”

Wallflower and Mr. Green both nodded.

She looked at them in disgust, turned her nose up at them, then trotted out of the Gazebo.

“...How long do you think she’ll last?” Wallflower asked.

“We won’t even see’er tomorrow,” Mr. Green replied.

She agreed with that assessment. She took another sip. Still too sweet.

Order 5. Tend to the new sapling until it has fully consumed the entity.

Wallflower charged the sapling with more magic as she fine-tuned the roots holding the Something in place. The Something had long since given up, having been mostly consumed by this point, and simply waited for the process to finish.

The tree that had grown from its body had a reddish hue with bright pink leaves that were fully embedded into the Something’s flesh. She had called off the other trees a day ago, knowing that they weren’t needed any longer.

She had come a long way from her first job in the Pavilion. She needed constant encouragement back then. Which wasn’t hard, since she had…

There was no point in reminiscing. Wallflower wiped the sudden tears from her eyes and refocused her attention on the task at hoof. She had a Something to slowly kill.

“It’s truly fascinating how these gardens work. I would love to study them more closely, alas—” Gardener 3, stallion edition, threw their head back with a hoof “—I am disallowed to do so. Unless somepony more experienced had some insight…?”

“Nope,” Mr Green replied.

“...Don’t ask questions,” Wallflower added.

“Really?” Gardener 3 asked in disbelief. “No, nagging inquiries? No thoughts on the matter? Nothing?!”

“Nope,” Mr Green said.

“...Order 1,” Wallflower added.

Gardener 3 got up from his seat and left in a huff, stomping out of the Gazebo.

“Told ya she’d last only a day,” Mr Green said.

“Unsurprising,” Wallflower replied. “What happened to her?”

“A Something broke her noggin’. Literally and metaphorically,” Mr Green said. “Gettin’ patched up in the hospital and should be right as rain in a few months. Course, she ain’t keepin’ her position here. I expect that stallion to follow after her soon enough.”

“Hm,” she sipped tea. “I also expect that.”

“Honestly, wish I knew how these fools kept gettin’ past the screening.”

“...Same way the cleanup crew do. Anypony can fake it enough to get through the interview. It's the follow through they crash and burn on.”

“That sounds like somethin’ ya learned from the fiery lass.”

Wallflower slammed the table, rattling the cups. She wasn’t sure what her expression was at that moment, but Mr. Green’s made her think it wasn’t good.

“Er, not?” Mr. Green said. He tapped his cup nervously. “I didn’t mean to insult ya or anythin’. Didn’t realize you didn’t want to talk about her.”

Her mind was blank, unable to find a way out of the conversational rut Mr. Green had accidentally brought them into. In lieu of a proper response, Wallflower relied on an old technique she employed back in school.

She left.

Wallflower believed in practicality. Though plants could be pretty, it was their use that made them great. But even Wallflower’s callous heart had to admit—

It was beautiful.

A towering sakura blossom, burning redder than the brightest flames. Petals like dancing embers amongst its branches. The Something’s form twisted and bent into the wood grain, a portrait of agony and pain. There was an artistry to it, a difficult-to-describe feeling that came from the presentation of its figure.

More importantly, though, within the central knot of the tree was a fiery red pomegranate. The last residue of the Something to be destroyed before it was properly, wholly contained, or it would be able to reform outside of its new prison.

Unfortunately for Wallflower, her least-favourite Princess was required for that step.

Order 6. Once the tree has blossomed and bears fruit, send for the Princess to dispose of it.

“Good morning, Wallflower.”

Wallflower did not return the greeting. The Princess stopped right next to her. She was as radiant as ever, which was to say as annoying as the harsh glare of the sun.

“I see another fruit has grown,” Celestia remarked. “Always a pleasure to see the results of your hoofwork.”

Don’t answer.

“Will you stay silent once again? I remember that we used to have tons of meaningful conversations in the past.”

Don’t. Answer.

“Is there really nothing you would like to talk about? Perhaps something mundane like the weather or the state of the garden?”

Don’t. Answer.

“...Are you still mad at me about what I said to Sunset?”

Furious. Livid. Seething. No one word could describe the sheer rage Wallflower felt toward Celestia. She tried to bury it, tried to keep the memories out, but one word from that horrid mare and she was back reliving that conversation again.

She’d been there. In the shadows, listening in concern for her closest friend who had become more and more withdrawn over the last few weeks.

This heartless mare, this so-called Princess with the grace of a rock being thrown at a glass house, had told her, someone she had once said she cared about more than life itself, that she would never be good enough.

That nothing she could ever do would let her achieve her ambitions.

It was the last straw. The final wound against a myriad of scars. Wallflower never saw Sunset again. She’d left. Disappeared overnight. Questions were met with vague responses that did nothing to bring closure to her.

Sunset was gone and Wallflower was never going to see her again.

The only thing that made things okay, the one hope Wallflower held onto… was that she was alive and happy somewhere. That she’d run away and found a life that brought her unending joy. She wanted to ask— no, demand where she was, but Celestia only appeared to her in these moments.

Order 1. Do not ask questions.

Order 2. Do not listen to anything that is told to you while in the Pavilion, including from the Princess herself.

She couldn’t ask a question. She couldn’t provide an answer. But a knife wound wasn’t either of those.

“...You’ll never be good enough to be a real mother.”

In a rare instance, Wallflower watched the regality of Princess Celestia fall and reveal the fragility of pony Celestia. The misery. The heartache. The devastation that hung about her. The part of her she hid from the rest of the world.

Then, just as suddenly as it came, the walls were back up.

“...I believe we’ve spent enough time on pleasantries,” Celestia announced.

Her horn lit up. Flames consumed the pomegranate. It melted, releasing screeches and hisses as the very core of the entity burned alive. After a few moments, the Something was officially trapped. It was now a Nothing.

“Thank you for your continued service,” Celestia said.

Professional. Slightly uplifting. A small, neutral smile. The kind of response Celestia gave to her subjects to keep the distance between them. Just as Wallflower preferred.

Celestia left, leaving Wallflower alone.

She regarded her latest work. It was one in a pattern that had recently emerged amongst her recent entrapments. A tree on fire. A monument to flames. The burnings of ambition and a confidence she found endearing.

Fiery mane. Bright eyes. The image of a mare glowing like the sunrise… just before it was snuffed out by the horizon.

Wallflower wiped the tears from her eyes and left. She had work to do.

And remembering was pointless.

Agent Smith Reporting In

On the corner, the one where the streets transform from the drab cobblestones of the lower end to the polished paved stone of the upper class, sat the Evening Watch. It was a strange establishment, open from the hours of 2 pm to midnight, serving a particularly devoted clientele that enjoyed the eccentricities of its operation.

It, unlike its morning-oriented peers, sold primarily bitter treats alongside sweet coffee drinks. It was an acquired taste that not many were fond of, but those that did adored it, knowing that only this cafe could provide such unique flavours.

The Evening Watch had a dark colour palette with a sleek modern design on the outside, lit up by a neon white sign signifying its name. The inside was decorated with simplistic decor and cozy furniture that, in combination with the dim lighting and somber background music, lulled ponies into contented drowsiness.

This was at odds with the cafe’s owner, Spearhead.

He greeted customers with ‘wazzup’, wore large colour-clashing scarves around his neck, and had the demeanor of a frat boy serving alcohol in red solo cups when the party was long over, but he’d gotten there late and was desperate to inject a new pulse into the dead partygoers.

Furthermore, his build and the way he stood suggested ‘guard’ rather than ‘barista’. No one knew anything about him, and, when asked, he would reply with such generic answers that many were caught between believing that he was either the most boring pony alive or ostensibly lying.

Despite this, he offered a second well-used service of the cafe, which was to listen. No matter the situation, Spearhead had your back and would support you through whatever terrible, awful thing that happened (usually getting dumped).

Spearhead stood behind the coffee counter cleaning out mugs from the busy day. His last customer had left some 30 minutes prior, and closing time was but a mere few minutes away.

A quick glance at a hanging wall clock noted the exact time left in his shift to be two minutes. He glanced next at the receipt pinned to the cash register to confirm his last order of the night.

EVENING WATCH CAFE

101101101

Agent Smith

Receipt #02-P-D-1487

TAKE AWAY
1 Apple Cinnamon Latte SML 00:00

Thank you for your service.

Delivery to be made by usual means.

A latte took approximately one minute and thirty seconds to brew. With the amount of time he had, he could have it ready as soon as his last customer trotted through the door.

Nutmeg from a swamp. Cinnamon harvested from the Badlands. Coffee beans ground from the pits near Tartarus. Milk taken from a cow fed only lemons. The bitterness was all brewed and frothed, poured into a black coffee cup and served before the only stool at the bar counter that had been left during his usual closing routine.

Just in time, the door swung open with the somber tingle of brass bells as his final customer strode across the floor and took a seat on the stool.

“Wazzup, bra?” Spearhead greeted.

“I ain’t your bra, sonny.”

“Sure ya are, Granny,” Spearhead replied. He smiled warmly. “All ladies are bras, all dudes are bros, and if they're in between, they’re buddies.”

Granny Smith frowned. Her kerchief was tied around her mane to keep it out of her face, which seemed pointless, as she was covered in bright red scratches and pumpkin pulp. At her side, looped onto her saddlebags, was a small wooden cage of old branches where a miniature pumpkin thrashed around inside.

“L E T U S F E E D!” it moaned.

“Shut yer trap,” Granny snapped. She banged the cage against the counter, causing the pumpkin to screech. “Yer lucky I don’t make ya into a pie with what you tried to do to my grandbaby.”

“Woah, bra. Is that the infamous Pumpkin Party?” Spearhead asked.

Granny’s frown deepened at the mention of ‘bra’. “It is, and I’ll be glad when I don’t have ta worry ‘bout this varmint hidin’ out in the woods.” She took a sip of her brew, and her frown turned into a scowl. “Nasty stuff. Don’t know why anyone drinks this.” She took another sip.

“Same as anypony. To make the sweeter moments sweeter,” Spearhead replied.

Granny grumbled incoherently for a moment. “Suppose I can see the fuss then.” She took a few more sips, savouring the brew. “Will make the reunion with my kin all the better.”

“Waitin’ back home?”

“Yeah. Must be worryin’em sick, but can’t leave this thing unattended or it’ll just go back to gobblin’ up pony innards again.” She glared at the creature caged at her hip. “Gross little pest.”

“So, will you continue with Redacted after this?”

“...We’ll see.” Granny took another sip, staring off into the middle distance as she did. “This one was my goal from the start, and now that I got it, don’t see the appeal of continuin’.”

“Retirement is always an option. Enjoy the passing of time on your front porch knowing you avenged Ole’ Spartan Apple.”

“Not all of us git a cushy cafe job when we call it quits,” Granny retorted. “Why’d you even take this post anyways?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Do those reasons look like an orange monster with a bad taste in stallions?” Granny asked.

Spearhead didn’t say anything. Instead he drew himself up to his full height, towering over the older mare as he continued to smile at her. Granny glared back. She held strong for a moment, but nerves got the better of her and she looked askance.

“...Didn’t mean to poke at yer kin. Been a bad day,” Granny muttered.

“Nah, no worries, bra,” Spearhead said, back to his chipper self. “Though the—” a loud ping interrupted him “—ah nevermind.”

The wall behind Spearhead slid open. An earth pony stepped out, pushing a rolling dining cart with a cloche on top. The pony was dressed in a full body black suit and matching hat that covered most of their features. They rolled the cart around the counter and stopped it near Granny.

Granny passed them over the cage that rattled in her grasp. The suit pony lifted the cloche to reveal an empty plate and placed the cage onto it. They slammed the cloche down, silencing the creature.

“Anything we should know?” the pony asked.

“No. Just make it suffer,” Granny replied.

The pony nodded and rolled the cart back through the wall, the panel sliding shut behind them.

Granny slammed her cup back onto the counter, the container drained of its contents. She jerked her head in Spearhead’s direction.

“Well, I need to be goin’,” Granny announced. “Got grandkids waitin’ on me and yer company is terrible. Have a good night.”

“Have a good night,” Spearhead replied.

Then she left.

Long after the sun had set and just after the last train had stopped for the night, an old mare made the long trek from Ponyville Station to Sweet Apple Acres.

When she arrived, she found her three grandfoals huddled together on the porch awaiting her return. The last of her immediate kin.

The warmth of their embrace that followed was everything the old mare needed to finally dispel the sorrow in her heart.

Sun Spots

La•zy Eye /ˈlāzē ī/ Noun

An eye with poor vision that is mainly caused by underuse, especially the unused eye in strabismus.

It was a sunny day in Ponyville. Bright, harsh and frankly overbearing. Rays of light hammered into the world, piercing through whatever poor unfortunate pony’s eyes dared to exist in the space.

That was secondary to the current fixation of Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight Sparkle stared at it. The stare she used was the kind she employed when she’d encountered something new and interesting and desperately wanted to study it. A puzzle with no solution readily apparent that needed proper research and time to discover. Curiosity manifested within a single look.

She was perplexed. Befuddled. Confounded. Utterly bewitched by the new thing that had crossed her path. There was a slight irritation in her eyes as the sun beams had found their target in her staring pupils, but it mattered little to her at the moment. She had found a mystery, and she had resolved to be the detective to unravel it.

It was only a matter of time until everything fell into place and she had an answer to this truly mystifying fascination.

“...Twilight. Stop being creepy.”

Her mind snapped back to reality. She turned to look at her baby brother Spike who had an expression that said ‘you’re getting social norms wrong again’.

Curses. Which one was it this time?

Despite her personal growth made manifest by the wings on her back and the crystal castle she stood before, it was moments like these that reminded her of her considerable social failings.

She returned her gaze to her to its original position and was greeted by the pony of her fixation.

Ditzy Doo.

Pegasus. Mare. Light grey coat. Short messy blonde mane. Cutie Mark of six bubbles. Dressed in her postal service uniform. Single mother to Dinky Doo. Golden—

Ah, there it was.

“There’s something wrong with your eyes,” Twilight stated with the bluntness of somepony telling another what colour the sky was.

“Twilight, you can’t just—” Spike rubbed the temples of his face “—it's too early in the morning for this. You deal with this on your own.”

He walked back inside the castle, shaking his head.

“Yes, there is!” Ditzy replied enthusiastically.

“No, I mean there’s really something wrong with your eyes,” Twilight stressed.

Ditzy tilted her head to one side. Both pupils rolled along the outer lining of her eyes. The sun rays that had been blocked partially by Ditzy’s head assaulted her anew, causing Twilight to squint.

“Um, yes?” Ditzy replied. “I’ve known about my condition for a long time now. You see the doctor—”

“I know that! What I’m trying to say is—” Finally, what Twilight had said caught up with her. Deep shame bubbled up within her as she realized her faux pas. She decided to enact good friend tactic 37. “Oh my gosh, Ditzy, I’m so sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me to say!”

“It’s okay, Twilight. I’m used to it!” Ditzy smiled brightly. “I’m just glad you haven’t gotten to the part where you start making fun of me about it.”

“No! Oh sweet sun, no! I would never—” Twilight took a deep breath, then exhaled “—Sorry. Can I explain?”

“Sure!”

“I was speaking with an old friend in Canterlot the other day and after having a long thrilling discussion on the possibilities of heat using the magnification of glass as a potential way to improve the heat retention of thermal baths found—” despite the positions of Ditzy’s eyes, she could still sense the blank stare “—Sorry. We ended up on the topic of optometry. Specifically, lazy eyes.”

“Oh!” Ditzy nodded, then tilted her head to one side again, both pupils rolling with her. Twilight found herself tracking the movement. “Why?”

“Science!” Twilight punctuated the statement with a flaring of her wings. She forced them back down. “Or, well, Moondancer had concerns about developing the condition due to her excessive reading habits.”

“Okay, that… sort of… makes sense,” Ditzy said.

“It does!” Twilight agreed. “Anyways, back on track, do you know what a lazy eye is?”

Ditzy pointed a hoof at her own eyes.

“No! Well, yes,” Twilight relented, “but! There’s something unique about how your eye actually moves.”

“... Randomly?”

“No! I mean, sort of? Look, a standard lazy eye doesn’t do what your eyes do. They move too much and seem to follow a pattern whenever—”

“Sorry, Twilight, but I have the rest of my route to complete, then I need to pick up my precious Dinky from school.” Ditzy waved a wing. “Good luck with whatever you’re doing!”

“Wait, no! You don’t understand! Your eyes—!”

Then she was gone, flying away and leaving Twilight with an unresolved mystery.

“...Dammit,” Twilight muttered.

A•ver•sion /əˈvərZH(ə)n/ Noun

A strong dislike or disinclination.

Twilight desperately pored over her books, searching for an answer. Ditzy refused to spare time for her to solve the mystery, thus leaving Twilight with her oldest friends to shed light onto this perplexing conundrum.

She flipped through pages and footnotes, indexes and glossaries, looking for any hint to the solution that was just out of reach. Just one clue. Any clue. Just ONE and she would—

“Um, Twilight?”

She fell backward with a squawk, wings and limbs flailing. Righting herself, she looked into a familiar face with familiar concern.

“Fluttershy!” Twilight greeted. “How are you? What brings you by?”

“...You forgot about the picnic with the other girls today, didn’t you?” Fluttershy deadpanned, expression flat.

Her brain ground to a halt. It frantically searched for the requisite memories, delved through cabinets for prior promises and came up with the appropriate answer.

“I forgot!” Twilight exclaimed. “I can’t believe—”

“It's fine,” Fluttershy interrupted. “You’re not late. We can head there now and still be on time, but it seems you might have…” She waved a hoof trying to find a proper word to use.

“Become obsessive?” Twilight finished.

“...Yes.”

“I mean… yeah, fine. I have. Spike has been on my case the last few days over it.” Twilight groaned. “ But I can’t help it! The subject is so fascinating!”

“The subject being…?”

“Ditzy Doo’s eyes. Wait, no, don’t look at me like that!”

“Twilight.”

“It’s not what you think!”

“You know she’s been—”

“I know! I know.” Twilight hung her head. “It’s just so unusual for a pony with her condition to have it behave the way it does, even if she’s had it since foalhood.”

“She didn’t have it as a foal,” Fluttershy said.

“Wait, she didn’t?” Twilight asked, surprised.

“No, she developed it around middle school. It was back in Cloudsdale and—” Fluttershy furrowed her brow “—Well, the details are a little vague since the sun was so bright out that day, but Ditzy had looked up in the sky, and then her eyes came down like that.”

“What?!” Twilight exclaimed.

“What’s what?” Fluttershy asked.

“That’s not—!” Twilight shook her head. “You know how lazy eyes work, right? They don’t just happen like that!”

“Twilight.”

“No! Don’t ‘Twilight’ me. This doesn’t make any—”

“Enough.” Fluttershy cut through the air with a wing, glaring at her. “This is beyond rude and insensitive of you. I understand that you can get caught up in things like this, but Ditzy doesn’t like ponies drawing attention to her condition and she has done nothing to deserve this treatment. You’re gonna end up really hurting her. Drop it.”

Twilight was ready to argue the point, but stopped herself. Fluttershy was right. She’d gone too far.

“...You’re right, sorry. Let’s head out.”

Fluttershy smiled.

Sun Spot /sən spät/ Noun

Any of the dark, irregular spots that usually appear in groups on the surface of the Sun (its photosphere), lasting from a few days to several weeks or more.

Twilight munched on her salad outside her favourite restaurant. She was alone and seeking shelter from the harsh glare of the sun. Though she adored her mentor, she couldn’t understand the logic of the Princess to make the sunlight this obscene mid-autumn.

She noticed Ditzy fly by in the distance. It reminded her that she owed Ditzy an apology, especially after the dressing down Fluttershy had given her the day before.

“Ditzy!” Twilight called out, waving.

Dinky altered her course and flew toward her. The sun’s rays were so strong and at an angle that they outlined her in a halo of light, casting harsh shadows against the ground.

Despite herself, Twilight watched as Ditzy’s eyes rotated… away from…

“Hey, Twilight, what can—”

“The sun,” Twilight interrupted. “Your eyes move away from the sun.”

As soon as she said it, Twilight felt as if she shouldn’t have. Like something’s unwanted attention had been drawn to her, and now it was fixated on her next actions. It was uncomfortable. Its gaze felt like it had dissected her, peeled away the layers of her body to see the core of her very nature. She felt naked in a way that made her too vulnerable and she desperately wished she had something to cover her in that moment.

After hearing her revelation, Ditzy stared at her with an unreadable expression. Now in the know, Twilight could see her pupils hide from the sun’s gaze as its rays bore down on her, adjusting to every movement of Ditzy’s head.

“...I don’t remember much,” Ditzy said. “The whole thing is mostly just a bunch of bright sunspots in my memory, but I saw something I shouldn’t have when I looked at the sun.”

“... What was it?” Twilight asked.

“...Something,” Ditzy said. “There was Something in the sun.”

That feeling of attention grew causing Twilight to fidget and sweat under its gaze.

“I don’t understand,” Twilight said.

“Nor should you,” Ditzy replied. “Look, Twilight. Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

“What?! That’s—”

“I saw Something. Something so bad that my eyes now refuse to even look at it.” To prove her point, she turned to look at the sun and her eyes rotated away. “I know you feel that you have to know, Twilight, but take my advice.

“Don’t look at the sun.”

Ditzy flew away leaving Twilight with her thoughts.

This was ridiculous. ‘Don’t look at the sun’. It was the symbol of Princess Celestia. She would never allow Something on her sun! To choose willful ignorance of the unknown went against everything she stood for. The worst a pony could get from looking at the sun was a momentary bout of sunspots remedied easily by some shade.

Of course, there was an easy solution to this. Just look at the sun.

She’d done it before… hadn’t she? At the Summer Sun Celebration. Wait, no Celestia had blocked it out of view during that. Maybe by accident? But she always looked away quickly or had her eyes shaded by a hoof.

Though she’d never thought about it deeply before, Twilight had never truly looked at the sun.

Well, she could remedy that quite easily. It was a bright sunny day, not a cloud in sight and it was the simplest solution imaginable.

That gaze stared more intently at her, egging her on. She was almost certain that the gaze belonged to— No, there was no Something in the sun. But, Twilight knew that if she didn’t look now, she’d never do so. If she wanted an answer, she had to go through with it.

Just look up.

Why was she full of dread? Why did her body shake? Why did the world seem to be viewing her with such intense intent, like there was about to be a massive turning point that would change everything going forward?

She just had to look up.

It would only be for a moment.

Just look up.

There was no reason to be scared—

J U S T L O O K U P.

Twilight Sparkle looked up.

Aide to the Sun

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Princess Celestia
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: DOM Initiative Presentation

Engineers at the Vain Galleria have notified me that the presentation of the new DOM Initiative will be ready by this week’s end. I have cleared your schedule accordingly and disguised it under the pretense of budget discussions with the Mayor of Baltimare.

Let me know as soon as you are able to if you will require anything else for the trip.

P.S. My assistant Jewel has asked me to request several servings of his favourite pearls so he can ‘super send’ all the memos by dragon fire.

P.P.S. Jewel has done excellent work this past month by taking on extra jobs as needed to ensure operations of Redacted run smoothly. I feel that a few of his favourite gems from you personally as a reward would go a long way to showing that he is doing exceptionally well.

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Grim Steward
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: Mires Forecast

Grim, for the sake of brevity, I would ask going forward that when transcribing the Forecast that you keep it short. I do not need a complete play-by-play of everything said, the tone in which it was spoken, and actions performed. I may be a bureaucrat, but even I consider the current reports to be excessive.

Additionally, Agent Harpsichord has brought to my attention suspicions of abuse toward the handlers of Future is Now and other employees. Now, there is no actionable offense as this is mere conjecture; however, based on past experience with Agent Harpsichord’s intuition, I will be closely monitoring the Mires for the foreseeable future.

Do not prove her suspicions correct, Grim.

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Mr. Greenhooves, Wallflower Blush
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: New Gardener for Cornucopia Pavilion

Mr. Greenhooves. Ms. Blush. It has come to my attention that you have not assisted in the training of the last four candidates for the Cornucopia Garden position and have actively incensed them.

I understand that comparatively, the new recruits have not been up to your caliber or those in the past. However, recent years have made it increasingly difficult to find ponies who both meet the basic magic requirements necessary andto have personalities suited to the job. You both aggravating them is not helping.

Our latest candidate is Carrot Top. She has decent magic proficiency and comes from Ponyville, which should meet any disposition standards required. I strongly adviseyou to help her come to understand the Orders so that she may properly integrate to her new position.

At the very least, we are running out of options. The gardens cannot remain unattended. Help her.

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Agent Smith
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: Pumpkin Party and Twilight Sparkle

I would like to take a moment to congratulate you on the containment of Pumpkin Party. I know that has been a long time goal of yours and I am glad that you have finally succeeded in avenging Agent Spartan. In regards to your impending retirement, all forms have been processed, however, I would like to ask you to follow up on one more mission in an official capacity before I finalize the paperwork.

The SUN Protocol has noted an unwillingness in Twilight Sparkle to submit to its BRIGHT SPOT function for unknown reasons.

Though, it is inconclusive, it is possible she has seen Sunspot.

If you are able, please check in on her and confirm her state of well-being. I have decided not to inform Celestia until we have a concrete idea of what happened.

P.S Though it may be out of line, I have here an application from one of your grandfoals to the training centre at the Evening Watch. I thought it would be prudent to make you aware of this before I process their application.

P.P.S. While we are on the subject of being out of line, should Twilight Sparkle now be in the know, I will ask that you answer any questions she may have for you. We can’t keep on like this anymore.

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Agent Deadly Hunt
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: Malformant Sighting in Pine Grove

I have received word that you are ready to go back into the field after your recovery from the wounds inflicted by Yield Thy Flesh. Agent Skies has cosigned on your release forms, meaning that you are officially cleared for missions.

If you are interested, we have reports of a Malformant in Pine Grove, just northwest of Manehattan. Recon has categorized the Malformant as Loathing and given it the name To Fill My Holes. They have noted that a Title Agent will be required for the job.

Should you be interested, please inform me when able to before deployment.

P.S. I have looked into the superior you noted for one of your ‘medications’. They did appear to put their subordinate’s name on the List as an abuse of authority. They will be handled accordingly.

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Agent Harpsichord
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: Possible Malformant Activity in Manehattan

You have been requested to track down a possible Malformant that is responsible for the ponynapping of a married couple, Gardenia State and Crumb Coat. Initial inquiry point toward a Malformant aligned with either Desire or Obsession. As this has been elevated to high risk, I have already assigned you to the case and enclosed a train ticket to take you to your destination.

P.S. I know you are desperate to find Moondancer, but we can’t let an unknown Malformant get out of hoof. I promise I will help you as much as possible once this is done, but for now I need you to take on this job.

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Agent Spearhead
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: New Recruits at the Evening Watch

I have begun processing forms for five new candidates for Agent training at the Evening Watch facility. One has an attached Trauma, one appears to have great potential, one is currently awaiting permission from a separate authority, and the other two seem capable enough for grunt-level work.

Enclosed are full summaries on each recruit. Please take some time to go over them before our afternoon brunch to give me your thoughts on them.

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Picturesque
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: Supplies for Vain Galleria

In the future, please do not use the emergency seal on non-emergency messages. Spearhead and I nearly died of a heart attack seeing the seal used for Nation Ending Threats sent to us in the middle of our meal.

Do not do it again. There will be consequences next time.

Now, in regards to your supply request, I will happily fill out the requisite forms and notify the proper channels to have them express delivered by late today or early tomorrow morning.

I will not include the rotten foodstuffs. You are trapping Malformants in art not ‘creating a message’. On that note, why in Equestria do you need 500 kilograms of chalk? Reply immediately with a valid reason in regards to this or I will leave it off the supply manifest.

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Coal Spark
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: Aid for Stalliongrad

Firstly, I must remind you that Royal Memos are for professional use only. Personal messages can be addressed through the Equestrian postal service.

Secondly, in regards to the Malformant Breach at the Mirror Palace facility, Agents Aces and Choir will be sent immediately to resolve this as well as to assist in reinforcing the barricades against the CASINO. Agent Deadly Hunt will also join you after the containment of the Malformant To Fill My Holes in Pine Grove.

Enclosed are Royal Vouchers for you to use at your discretion to procure all necessary supplies in stopping the breach.

P.S. I love you too. Pleasestay safe, Coal.

MEMORANDUM

DATE: XX, XXXX
TO: Princess Celestia
FROM: Raven Inkwell
SUBJECT: Presentation of DOM Initiative

They’re ready for you.

P.S. Jewel loved the gemstones you sent him.

Scar Brand

Author's Note

Content Warning
Scars, Branding

Scar Brand

Connect. Connect.

Sunburst frowned. He wasn’t due back for at least several hours. He admonished his companion in his mind, stressing the importance of patience.

Connect. Connect.

He wasn’t sure why he even bothered lecturing them. Instead, he decided to ignore them and focus on his present circumstances.

“So, how is it being Twilight’s apprentice?” Sunburst asked.

“Stressful. Difficult. A lot of learning,” Starlight answered. She huffed, stirring her coffee with a stir stick in her magic. “I didn’t think I was that behind on basic pony decency, but here we are! Several mind control attempts later and still having to learn why that’s bad.”

“Well, now you know,” Sunburst said.

Starlight looked askance, hiding her expression behind a sip of coffee.

“...You know now, right?”

“I meeeaaan—” Starlight waved a hoof “—depends on the—”

“Don’t mind control ponies,” Sunburst deadpanned.

Starlight nodded.

“Or anything else for that matter,” Sunburst added. “And just to cover my bases, that does in fact cover everything, everyone, and the other races.”

“Ugh, fine.” Starlight rolled her eyes. “Don’t use mind control at all. I get it. I’ll write a letter later and shove it into Twilight's mailbox. Happy?”

“Very.” Sunburst sipped his coffee.

Connect. Connect.

“Later,” Sunburst hissed.

“What?” Starlight asked.

“Well, we’ll be doing our next activity together later tonight, right?”

“Oh, yes. That’s this evening.” Starlight giggled. “Never thought I would ever get you to agree to come with me to a nighttime kiting event.”

“It’s important to you, so it’s important to me,” Sunburst said. “You’ve loved kites since we were foals and considering how much you go along with my antique hunting, it’s only right that I indulge in your hobby at least once.”

“Thanks, Sunburst.” She beamed at him. “Can’t believe between starting a cult and leaving Sire’s Hollow that the one thing that stuck in my life was kite flying.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to see that some things never change.”

“Right.” Starlight tapped her coffee cup nervously. “Listen, Sunburst—”

“No more apologies,” Sunburst interrupted.

“But—!”

“It’s okay. We’ve—”

“But it isn’t!” Starlight slammed her hooves on the table. “I got so caught up on how you were ‘abandoning me’ that I didn’t even notice how much you were hurting too!” She looked askance. “I was your best friend and I didn’t even know what you were going through.”

You still don’t, Sunburst thought. “It really is fine, Starlight. It’s okay to just put the past behind us.” He held onto Starlight’s hoof. “We made mistakes, but we grew up and fixed them. Besides, at the end of the day, I really did want to leave Sire’s Hollow. Just would have preferred my Cutie Mark not auto-admitting me into Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

“Yeah, that did suck…” She took her hooves out of Sunburst’s. “Hey, so, just to check, how did you get your Mark?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, talking today just made me think back to that time and—” She bit her lip “—My memory is a bit fuzzy on the details.”

Despite himself, hope welled up inside of him.

“O-oh? You are?” Sunburst said, forcing his voice to stay neutral. “What parts?”

“W-well.” Starlight furrowed her brow. “I know it was sunny that day.”

It was raining. “...Yeah, it was,” Sunburst agreed.

“We built a tower of books to play Jenga at…” She narrowed her eyes. “The Preservation Society, right? The library portion where my dad keeps the really old records?”

Firelight had made the area forbidden after that day without understanding why he’d done so.

“Yeah. We were using the books as the blocks and it had been your turn to pull a book from the tower.”

“Hmhm. I started to pull a book when…” She trailed off.

It appeared. It almost killed you. That had been the beginning of the end of our friendship as it was.

“And your mark… appeared…?” She concentrated in thought before immediately brightening up, all concern gone. “Oh right, of course! The tower toppled and then you used your magic to stop the books from falling on top of me. There’d been a really bright flash of light and you had your mark. It’d been really bright too, like the light of the sun.”

No. “Yep.” That wasn’t how it happened. “You almost got a really bad head injury.” Damn her for making you forget. “Lucky I was there to save you, huh?”

“Definitely,” Starlight said.

It hurt. It hurt so much because it hadn’t been her but him who’d made the tower topple. The one to unleash the Rift hidden inside one of the books. The one to bring it into being.

That awful monster that had infected Starlight with its Obsession.

Connect. Connect.

“I need to go.” He stood up, unable to handle the pain. “I forgot about something important that I have to deal with before we can do the kite flying tonight.” Partially true. “I’ll meet up with you later, okay?”

“Oh! Um, okay.” Starlight looked disappointed. “I’ll see you at the festival then.”

Unable to bear it any longer, Sunburst left. She still didn’t know. Still didn’t understand why she had nothing to apologize for. The reason she’d become so obsessed with Marks in the first place.

If he’d just not gotten this cursed mark, none of Starlight’s mistakes would have happened.

If his Mark hadn’t been able to do what it did… they’d have still been friends.

He wound his way through the streets of the Crystal Empire, hooves clicking on tiled streets until he came to the back of the palace. A small burst of magic from his horn and the secret door opened, allowing him to descend into the dark depths.

After a moment, he found himself in a cavernous crystal room roughly in the shape of an octahedron. To one side were fogged-over crystal walls only viewable from up close. On the other were stacks of his lab equipment and a glass monitor hooked up to a crystal array.

In the center, on a pedestal, was the Crystal Heart.

Well, one of them.

Con— You’re here!

The Crystal Heart’s high pitched, foalish voice echoed in his mind. It had the energy of a young foal discovering the taste of candy for the first time.

“Yeah, hi,” Sunburst groused. He shucked off his cape, hung it on a nearby rack, and made his way to the monitor. “What happened? Why were you trying to contact me?”

I wanted to chat!

Sunburst glared at the physical form of the Crystal Heart.

Fine. The results from our first test run just came in.

A thrill of excitement rushed through him. He logged into the monitor with a tap of his hoof and navigated to the relevant results with a burst of magic.

Coco Pommel. Malformant Brand of Desire Empress’s New Clothes. Success.

“...huh.” Sunburst chuckled. “Huh!” Then he started laughing hysterically. “It worked! It actually worked!”

“Yeah it did! Does that mean we’re moving forward with World End Orchestra?”

He grinned widely, showing far too many teeth, a slightly crazed look in his eyes. Using his magic, he pulled an iron branding rod from out of the equipment pile and slung it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, it does. Don’t have much time today, but—” He trotted toward the far wall with the fogged over crystals“—We can at least get the next Brand ready.”

Yay! Then everyone gets to be safe and happy?!

“Well, no. Coco was the first step, this is the next. After that, there will still be a whole lot of things to do before we reach that point. And even in the short term, we’ll have to extract Coco before Redacted gets a hold of her. That’s for later, though. What’s more important is that we have an actual first success.” He laughed. “After so many failed attempts, we finally managed to get the Brand to work!”

Yeah! … Hey, Sunburst?

“Hm?”

We’re doing this to destroy all the Malfomants… right?

“Yeah?”

Well, does that include—

“You are not on the list,” Sunburst replied. He meant it. “You’ve been a huge help and proven to be the exception to usual monsters. I promise that I won’t hurt you. Ever.”

Okay, Sunburst! So, we protect the ponies?

“We protect the ponies,” Sunburst agreed.

He felt the anti-magic field wash over him as he approached his destination. Illusions melted away, revealing the black scars all across his body. The wounds that proved his devotion to the cause and effort to see his dream come true. An Equestria free of Malformants.

As he approached, the crystal wall cleared revealing a strange bipedal sheep. The Malfomant Do You Dream of Sheep?

His next test subject.

He swung the brand forward until the flat end faced the abomination. He charged his horn. His Cutie Mark began to pulse with sickly yellow light. The end of the brand rod began to glow.

Sunburst plunged it toward the Malformant’s chest, laughing as he did so.

Future is Now

On paper, Redacted was a private company owned by ‘Sunny Skies’ that had existed for ‘a few decades’ and handled the disposal of sensitive documents on behalf of Canterlot Castle. This was what any foreign entity or nosy pony would discover if they tried to look into things.

In reality, it was a group founded by Celestia over a thousand years ago to handle the fallout of Starswirl’s damage to the Dimensional Fabric of Equestria.

Redacted wasn’t any one operation. They were a multitude scattered across Equestria, with several main facilities that handled major aspects of Malformant containment. Each of the primary buildings had two main functions: a mode of containment for a particular Sin category and a major infrastructure component.

Canterlot Castle Garden Pavilions contained Hatred Malformants and was the administrative center of Redacted, headed by both Princess Celestia and Raven Inkwell.

The Evening Watch cafe contained Feast Malformants and acted as the main hub for Agent deployment throughout Equestria.

However, Moonlight Raven did not care about these other facilities, just the one that she found herself trapped working in. The Hollow Shades Mires.

It was Redacted’s informational hub, with agents that specialized in gathering pertinent intel on active Malformants, locating open Rifts, and providing in-field strategies to Agents on how to neutralize Malformants.

As for containment, their method was known as the Drench.

“Like, wow, Moonie. That’s a big one,” Moonlight’s twin sister, Sunshine Smiles, said.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Moonlight looked in the direction of Sunshine’s gaze.

Their vantage point was from within one of the Mire’s domes. A massive glass sphere built on wooden stilts. Through its one-way windows, Moonlight could see the Wallowing Mire spread out before them. A massive expanse of wet grasslands with a long series of interconnected docks built upon it.

On one portion of the dock was the newest addition to be added to the Mire’s depths.

The Malformant had many of the key features of a Wallowing Sin type: oppressive blue aura, a form that wobbled like gelatin, and vibrating, white eyes. This particular specimen took on the rough shape of a pegasus made up of cassette film, with a head replaced with a tape deck. Despite its smaller size and based on the number of Agents nearby to subdue it, this Malformant was on the stronger side.

Agents bound the Malformant in thick white ropes made up of a material that Moonlight preferred to not think about. Once the Malformant was unable to do anything, they attached one end of the rope bundle to a hook hanging from a tall wooden lamp post.

One free Agent began to turn a rusted crank, slowly dunking the helpless screeching abomination into the watery depths. With no way to break through the heavy magic of the Mire, that would be where it would remain indefinitely.

At least until the Princess of the Sun decided what to do with it.

“Wowie. Haven’t seen that many Agents needed for one Malformant in, like, forever,” Sunshine remarked. “Was it one of the ones from our Forecast?”

“Yes,” Moonlight replied. “We foretold it two weeks prior. The Manehattan Bar District one.”

Sunshine nodded her head and returned to staring out the window. Moonlight took a sip of the tea she had prepared earlier as she surveyed their lodgings.

Herbs and plants grew all along the interior edges of the room. Plush furniture made up most of the living space, as well as a multitude of vinyls and books. A small, elevated, curtained-off space was their shared bunk bed, and two blocked-off locations were the kitchen and bathroom respectively.

She brought her tea cup back down with a clink. It was cold and had been seeped for too long. Just as she liked it.

“One of the Agents told me there were no casualties in subduing the Malformant,” Sunshine said. “That means it was, like, a perfect mission!”

“Some imperfection would have been better. A few deaths to keep them cautious,” Moonlight remarked.

“That’s horrible!”

“But certainly well-deserved.”

“How could you say that?”

Moonlight glared at Sunshine.

She bit her lip. “They’re not all bad.”

“Only the majority.”

Sunshine declined to respond.

It was not the first time they’d disagreed like this. They were both very different ponies. Moonlight preferred a gothic aesthetic to match her off-white coat and dark blue mane, while her sister Sunshine favoured a preppy look with her bubblegum pink fur and blonde mane.

She liked pop, Moonlight preferred opera. She wanted everything sweet, Moonlight wanted it bitter. Sunshine spared pity toward their captors, Moonlight did not.

Despite their differences, they got along well and held to their one core belief that no harm will come to the other sister.

“...Isn’t, like, Grim running late today?” Sunshine asked.

“Probably held up by the containment of that new Malformant,” Moonlight replied. “I expect the mare to show up—”

The doors to their abode slammed open. A mare of large stature trotted in with the precision of a military march. She had dark blue fur, cyan mane tied into a tight bun, and the expression of a drill sergeant ready to break in the new recruits. She was dressed in the uniform of a Redacted Agent. Black suit, cyan-coloured tie to signify the facility she worked at, and metal plates covered vital parts of her body.

She stopped just short of their table, towering over them with her grim countenance.

“Good day, Grim Steward,” the sisters greeted in unison.

“Good day, sisters,” Grim greeted back.

“Are you here for the Forecast?” Moonlight asked.

“We are, like, so ready if you are,” Sunshine added.

A curt nod. She seemed to be in a good mood. That meant they might get off easy this time.

Moonlight and Sunshine joined hooves together to form a circle. Their horns glowed. Blue and yellow energy coursed between them in a loop, colours bleeding into each other as they charged their spell.

A conglomerate of eyeballs appeared within the center of the makeshift circle, with several wings coming out of its body. Chains of gold and silver hung from its form, with small crystal moons and suns embedded inside of some of the links.

Their birthright flooded them with power. Moonlight could feel it within her being, feel it within her sister.

They were one.

“Future is Now,” they both intoned, their voices entwined together. “We seek a Forecast of disasters to come.”

The eyeballs vibrated in place, their Trauma readying to scry into the future. The pupils opened into mouths.

“With rain comes Wallowing to assail the coast of sails,” the Trauma intoned. “Feast prepares for the coming harvest, the young taken to push the old to yield. Desire reforms in service to the Sun. Vanity is found within a young foal, corrupted to overthrow love at its core.”

“Agent Deadly Hunt is active once again then,” Grim remarked. “From past readings, the coast of sails refers to Vanhoover. I’ll have to notify them of an impending Rift. The other two aren’t much to go on. If that’s all—”

The Trauma’s mouths widened, the eyeballs turned red. It screeched, “Warning. Warning. Warning. Desire runs rampant in the big city. Apathy to ruin the domain of dreams. The—” Future shuddered. The sisters cried out as their power wavered. “Brand and Heart. Obsession and Desire. Warning. Warning. Warning. War—”

Moonlight and Sunshine collapsed. Their magic dissipated.

“Wait, what did—!” Grim stepped closer to the sisters. “Do another.”

“One forecast per week,” Moonlight replied weakly.

“That’s, like, our limit,” Sunshine added. “Anymore and—”

Grim stomped one hoof on the floor, rattling the dome. Her face twisted into cold fury.

“I. Don’t. Care,” Grim said. “Do it again.”

“We, like, literally can’t,” Sunshine stressed. “You’ll have to—”

Grim slapped Sunshine across the face. She fell back onto the floor.

“Sunny—!” Moonlight called out.

“No excuses!” Grim grabbed Moonlight by the mane and pulled her up roughly to be eye level with Grim. She snarled. “I won’t repeat myself again.”

Moonlight nodded her head. Grim dropped her. Sunshine dragged herself back up to the table. Moonlight could tell a heavy bruise would form from the hit she took.

They did as before, putting their hooves together and lighting their horns. However, when the coloured loop formed, it wavered and fluctuated unevenly, refusing to stabilize. They could feel the echoes of their connection to each other, but it wouldn’t click into place.

“Why isn’t it appearing?” Grim demanded.

“We, like, told you. We can’t,” Sunshine said.

“We only have enough energy for one Forecast per week,” Moonlight added. “Our Trauma takes a lot of magic to form.”

Grim regarded them coldly, then rifled through an inner pocket of her jacket. She pulled out two vials filled with translucent blue liquid.

“What is—?” Moonlight began to ask.

Before either sister could react, Grim popped off the caps, and shoved a vial into each sisters’ mouth. It tasted… indescribable. Like if a unicorn could eat their own aura. Everything felt fine, until, suddenly, it burned.

They both screamed as magic flooded their systems, overloading them well beyond their capacity.

The connection was made but unlike before, it hurt. They were doing something they weren’t supposed to, calling forth something that didn’t want to be called. Future is Now formed, but wrong. It was more indistinct, its body wavering.

“Warning. Warning. Warning,” Future intoned weakly. “War—”

Grim punched their Trauma. It impacted against the windows, and caused the sisters to scream from the clapback.

“Cult of Brands has formed,” Future is Now declared. “Apathy will soon be deployed in the Crystal Empire. Warning. Warning. War—”

The sisters collapsed, Future disappearing as they did.

“See?” Grim gave them a smug smile. “You could do it again.” She glanced at the vials. “These appear to be quite effective. I should contact Director Introversion about getting more.”

Moonlight struggled to breathe, exhaustion crashing into her as her magic completely drained away from her body. Panic began to settle its way into her mind as she realized that with this success, Grim wouldn’t hesitate to use it again.

“Rest up,” Grim said. “I’ll be back soon for the next Forecast. Possibly even sooner than expected.”

Then she left.

Sunshine looked at her, tears in her eyes. “M-Moon?”

Her sister was afraid. Her sister was in danger. Grim was going to hurt her again.

Unacceptable.

“...We are moving forward with the plan,” Moonlight said.

“B-but—”

“We do not have any more time. What we have will have to do. Get ready to leave, Sunshine.

“We are getting mom back.”

Just as Advertised

Author's Note

Content Warnings
Body Horror

Just as Advertised

Life sucked. You were born, everything was terrible, then you died. I hadn’t been asked to be born or to be dealt this terrible hand, but here I was. Miserable and alone. I hated this place. I hated my work. I hated everything.

It was a deep-seated resentment. A disgust that went beyond the norm. Hate didn’t even feel like the right word most of the time, but it was the only one I had to describe it.

My world was trash. I used to live a better life in a big city with real people. People who got me. Then the layoffs happened, and I had to move out to this hick town in the middle of nowhere. But it was temporary. Work this meaningless job, apply to a new one in the city, then move back. Take my life back day by agonizing day.

Then the bombs happened.

Most of the world carpet-bombed into nothing in just a few weeks. All the major hubs were completely destroyed. All that remained were the isolated small towns that no one had cared about.

None of this was fair. I was supposed to move back to the city, to be around real people again. Not these losers that constantly try to ‘engage’ with me.

We’re so sorry this happened to you! Buck up champ, at least you still got us! If you ever need to talk, just let us know! Trash. All a bunch of fakes just trying to talk to me so they can use me as their pity standard. Make themselves look so much better next to the guy who lost everything. But I won’t be a mockery! I won’t!

I was better. I knew it. They should know it. And soon I’d be somewhere that would recognize it. Not this dead world. Not this place with nowhere for me to go. Somewhere I could start over and be happy again. Somewhere simpler that was nothing like what we had here. A brand new start.

“Welcome to Equestria!” the small pony said. “A place where all your dreams can come true!”

I smiled at the small cartoony pastel coloured ponies while huddled within my blankets. Most of the internet was gone, but some private websites still worked. Like this one.

“Here in Equestria, we ponies all live happy lives playing together and making new friends!”

The ponies started to gallop through scenic towns past other ponies, all having fun and enjoying each other’s company. I giggled at their antics. It was the kind of connection I craved, not this fake stuff from the local garbage.

“In Equestria, everyone loves each other and plays everyday!”

I needed that. Something to fill the awful void inside me where all my regret and resentment gnawed away at my insides. I needed an out, someplace new to start over without all the crushing despair of this stupid town. Someplace that didn’t have reminders of what I once had standing tall as burnt out husks on the horizon.

This video gave me a solution.

“Do you feel lonely?” Yes. “Like the world doesn’t love you?” Yes! “Then come to Equestria!” Yes, yes! “All you need to do is go to the end of the rainbow, then jump through the portal!”

An answer, a new start. Everything I wanted.

“We look forward to meeting you!”

The advertisement was over. A black screen greeted me. I got out of my swaddle of blankets, out of my old home and into the torrential downpour outside.

Water drenched me, soaking me to the core, but I knew it would only last a short while. It was due to be bright and sunny soon. A chance.

I was ready to be happy.

Getting into my junker car, I cranked the ignition. It sputtered to life. I careened out of my driveway and onto the road, heading toward the open fields on the edge of town.

Rain battered the window as I drove past tall fields of wheat. After only a few minutes, the rain dissipated into sunshine.

A rainbow formed.

Hammering the gas pedal, I drove toward the end of it. Dead sentinels of cities stood stark in the sun, reminding me of why I was doing this. I’d lost everything I cared about in this world. It was time to escape to a better one.

The road ended at an open field. I got out and ran for it.

As I got closer, my goal made itself known: the portals. They were just like the advertisement said, sitting at the end of the rainbow. Bright intangible ovals leading to other Dimensions. There were a couple dozen of them, but, after pursuing forum posts from experts, I knew that only at most a handful would lead to Equestria.

The rabble began to appear, all gunning for the portals to leave this awful place. Most of them didn’t have the information I had, or were going for different destinations.

I surveyed the rifts looking for the telltale signs that would let me know it was the right one. Purple and yellow.

None of them matched. Panic began to set in.

What if there wasn’t a portal to Equestria here? What if I didn’t reach it in time? Portals were a one passenger deal. If I didn’t get to it before others, I was stuck waiting for however long until the next rainbow appeared.

A figure in the distance. Indistinct and difficult to make out besides gangly limbs and a wide toothy smile. Whoever they were pointed in a direction.

I followed his arm to a portal. Purple and yellow. My target.

Mustering speed, I ran harder toward my exit. Past the gangly-limbed person who said something to me that I didn’t quite catch. It didn’t matter. I was focused. I was driven. I was going to be the one to go to Equestria.

There were three other people racing toward the portal I was heading toward.

An athletic looking guy who ran fast, but was far enough back that I would beat him as long as I didn’t slow down. Another guy who was heaving air as he ran that was close enough to be a potential threat. Finally, a little girl who’d just pulled up next to me, an excited grin on her face.

With no hesitation, I rammed into her, causing her to tumble to the ground. She screamed and rolled, impacting against the earth with a sickening crack.

She might have been hurt.

She shouldn’t have gone after my portal, then.

I reached the portal at the same time as the heavy-breathing guy. I’d misjudged the athletic one, who was rapidly gaining on both of us. I needed to get rid of this guy quickly.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, I threw the other man to the ground then reached for the portal. He latched onto my legs, tears and snot running down my jeans.

“Please, no!” the loser pleaded. “I need this! I—”

“It’s mine!” I kicked him in the face. “I won’t stay in this stupid world anymore!” I kicked him again. There was a crunch. Blood spurted from his nose. “I deserve it!”

The word came to me then. What I’d been trying to describe my feelings toward this place as.

Loathing.

Disgust and animosity toward a place that did nothing but kick me down and leave me in the dregs bitter and alone. I wouldn’t succumb to its machinations. I refused. I was getting a fresh start. I was going to fill that void of loathing with something better. Happiness.

No one was going to stop me.

One final kick. Snap. The man went limp. My legs were free, just in time as the runner was getting close. Well, too bad for him. I’d already stepped through the portal.

Colours flew past. A painful kaleidoscope of overstimulation that fried my eye sockets. There was a noise in the background, like waves crashing against rocks. I felt my body break, reshaping itself.

I had thought that I might be transformed into a pony on the other side, even if I would have preferred to keep my thumbs, but hadn’t expected how painful this would be. It was fine, though. I would only have to feel this once, and then I could attain the happiness I desperately sought. A price worth paying.

Reality swam into focus, splotches of colours beginning to take on distinct shapes. I stumbled forward, unsteady on my new limbs.

It was a town. Some small back village in the woods. It looked much more medieval than I was expecting. Less… cartoonish or colourful, but that was fine. I could live with that.

Something more unexpected was the mare standing before him. She was… not quite up to expectations. Her fur coat was definitely bright, a fuschia, but more muted than the advert. She had all the basic parts of what was shown in the video, but she had harder edges, less rounded. She also had a horn, which was… weird. I didn’t understand the point of that in a place that was all about friendship.

Honestly, I was just disappointed with how horse she was. Her proportions were similar to an actual pony, with all the requisite parts plus some eccentric accents and human-like facial expressions.

I should have expected the show to be more abstract, but… no, it didn’t matter. I was here for a new start. It was time to put my best foot— hoof forward.

“Hi, there, I’m—” I greeted and was surprised by how guttural I sounded.

She screamed and ran away.

I didn’t understand. Why did she do that? I was a pony like her. Wasn’t she supposed to—

Then I looked down. Where a hoof should have been was a claw. It was horrifying. This three-pronged elongated, sickly yellow monstrosity that was shriveled and covered in pockmarks that oozed some awful translucent fluid. As my sight took in the grotesque limb, I began to feel the sticky fluid as it spurt from my body. It felt absolutely terrible.

This couldn’t be— Did all of me look like this? Was I— No. No, no, no— This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was my new start, my chance at happiness. I was a freak! How was I supposed to—

The sentence the gangly man had uttered to me caught up.

“Just as advertised. One trip to Equestria.”

What did he mean by that? Was he the one that had arranged this? Did he know this would happen? What the hell did he mean by ‘Just as Advertised’? I was a monster! How was I supposed to get a new start while everyone ran screaming away from me?

A low, wet gurgling sound emanated from somewhere. I think it was from me. What had I just become? I could feel the void in me stronger than before, gnawing at me. That horrible, horrible loathing growing and growing and—

Screw this. Screw all of them! How dare they do this to me?! I deserve better! I deserve a new start! I deserve happiness!

These stupid ponies should be making friends with me. So what if I look like a monster? What’s inside matters more. I matter more.

The gnawing was getting painful, like being eaten from the inside by little insects. I needed to fill this void. I needed to bury this awful loathing. Friendship couldn’t do it. Not while I looked like this. What could fill these gaping holes?

I looked at the pockmarks. They were big. Oozing. The size was roughly the same as the mare that had run away.

Could I plug the holes? If I did… would this loathing go away? Could I be…

One limb forward, followed by another. I needed to get to town. To where the ponies gathered. Plenty of fresh faces to sate the new desire that filled me. The ponies won’t freely give me what I want. They won’t fulfill my needs.

That’s fine.

I’ll just make them.

Love and Loathing

Pine Grove was well known for its logging community. As such, the residents embraced a woodsy aesthetic of log buildings and a deep appreciation of flannel. It was also much larger than most towns in Equestria due to taking in the runoff from Manehattan, resulting in a nature-heavy town on the verge of becoming a city.

Evergreens towered overhead in the evening light of the moon, further lit by lantern posts. Flash trotted toward the center of town square, alone. Soarin had flown off to guide the townsponies out in preparation for the ensuing carnage.

Fill… Fill… Fill…

The centerpiece was a whimsical stump that pumped out maple syrup into a fountain. Flash wasn’t sure if it was just modern engineering or magic, but he liked to think it was the latter for the sake of his own foalish glee.

Flash was dressed in a black suit with protective armour and a green tie to indicate his assignment to the Evening Watch. It was form fit, it was flattering on his body, and it was in the way.

He took it all off, neatly folded it and placed it on the edge of the fountain. For most Agents, it was the only form of protection afforded to them. For Flash, it was just a hindrance.

Fill. Fill. Fill.

His inner monster, granted to him by the Malformant Collector of Curiosites and Curios, called to him, warning of the impending danger. He answered it, giving it a list of changes to better prepare for the fight ahead.

His bones cracked and reformed, his flesh stretching to accommodate the changes. It was painful, but, by this point, Flash was used to it.

Falcon wings to increase his speed, two dragon claws for close quarters fighting in place of his front hooves, dripping with an alcoholic solution to hopefully deal with the Malformant’s liquid that he’d been warned about, and some size and muscle density from Zebrican tigers just in case.

Several drops of foul-smelling translucent fluid dripped into the fountain from above him.

“Fill.”

Looking up, Flash came face-to-face with the Loathing Malformant To Fill My Holes.

It was a torso with four long limbs that ended in three-pronged claws, towering over both himself and the surrounding buildings. It had a rounded head that wobbled back and forth. Its torso was an open wound, small insects gnawing away at its insides. In addition, it had the trademarks of a Loathing Malformant, sickly yellowed skin and pockmarks all over its body.

Pus-like fluid with the consistency of sap dripped from all of its holes. It smelled foul, like a skunk that could fart sulfur.

Fulfilling its concept, ponies of all types were embedded in the holes of its flesh. The fluid kept them stuck to it, with their eyes wide open in terror. A frustrating development, as it meant that Flash would have to be careful not to harm the victims.

“Wow, you're ugly,” Flash remarked. “Even by Loathing standards.”

“Fill!”the Malformant screeched.

A clawed hand came down on Flash. In response, he raked his claws along the underside, tearing through flesh and drawing forth a gush of fluid that splattered all over him.

The abomination drew back with a screech, cradling its injured hand.

This fluid was a problem since, if he was drenched in enough of it, he wouldn’t be able to move. He could already feel the sap hindering his mobility. Thankfully, this particular inconvenience wouldn’t be an issue for him.

Calling forth on his inner monster again, he shed his sticky skin and stepped out of the discarded husk, perfectly clean once more.

Changing tactics, the Malformant threw a wave of fluid in his direction.

Using his increased speed to his advantage, Flash leaped out of the way and took off. He ducked and weaved around the Malformant as he flew, raking his claws along its flesh when the opportunity presented itself.

The monster continued to flail at him with reckless abandon. Based on its panicked strikes, Flash felt he could safely presume that its only trick was the sap.

“Guess I should stop waiting for you to be interesting,” Flash said.

“Fill!” it screeched, bringing two hands together toward Flash.

He flapped his wings hard and dodged it with ease. Opening his wings, he glided along one of the Malformant’s limbs and cut out captive ponies as he went with his alcohol-tipped claws. It dissolved the sap easily and allowed the captives to gallop away as they dropped to the ground.

Over the next few minutes, Flash systematically freed each of the entrapped ponies from the creature’s many holes.

When the last pony escaped, the abomination screamed, cradling its head with all four limbs as it threw a tantrum.

“Fill! Fill! Fill! Fill! Fill!” it screeched.

“Sheesh, you are loud.” Flash cleaned out one ear with a wing top. “If you’re gonna scream like that, then let me give you a reason to.”

He took a deep breath, the underside of his throat becoming scaled, his lower teeth sharpened into fangs. Once he was certain that enough air had been stored inside his mouth, he clicked his tongue, igniting the new flame sac that had formed there.

Jewel had told him of a type of flame used by dragons that only burns the flesh of the first target it consumes. A nasty trick, but useful in a very flammable pine needle forest.

With an exhale, he spewed out a torrent of magenta flames at the Malformant.

Burning flesh mixed the natural musk of the abomination as its screams took on a higher pitch. It flailed desperately along the ground, trying to put out the flames. A useless endeavor, as only Flash would be able to put them out.

“Did it give you any trouble, babe?”

“Nah,” Flash replied. He kissed his dapper coltfriend Soarin, who was dressed in a black suit with a green tie, on the cheek. “Was barely any trouble. Got the magnets ready?”

“Yep.” Soaring held up several metal spheres in his wings. “Put out the flames and we’ll pack him up tight for our trip up north.”

Flash spewed a gush of white flames, neutralizing the magenta. The stallions worked quickly, embedding spheres into the Malformant’s flesh. Before the abomination could react, it was already too late.

The contraptions hummed to life, beginning to move toward each other, folding the Malformant’s body in on itself. After a few moments, it had been packed into a big fleshy sphere.

“That took longer than usual for you,” Soarin remarked.

“Wanted to be cautious since I just got out of recovery.” Flash jerked his head toward the other end of town. “Got everyone out?”

“After care is with them now. We can leave for Stalliongrad anytime.”

“Right. We have a long way to go and I don’t want to leave them dealing with the Casino for too long, so we’ll go right away. Kiss for the long haul?”

Soarin grabbed Flash by the scruff of his chest and pulled him in close, latching onto his lips. They leaned into each other, savouring the other’s taste. After what felt like too short a time, they pulled back, panting from the intimate moment.

“Thanks, babe,” Flash said. “Now, let’s get this ball moving.”

Flash tapped into his inner self and willed it to transform him into something better suited for travel.

His wings shrunk into his body as the rest of him grew and elongated into larger proportions. Muscles leans out, limbs extended, and his head took on a distinctly feline shape.

After a few moments, a large orange cheetah stood in place of Flash.

After roping the fleshy sphere onto his back with help from Soarin, they were off toward their next destination.

The Sun Sets

“I am pleased—no, honoured—no, fanatically fervent to be in your presence, Princess of the Sun,” Picturesque said. “Please allow me to—”

“Enough, director,” Princess Celestia admonished. “I appreciate the greeting, however, I am here for only one thing.”

“The DOM Initiative test subject, of course,” Picturesque replied.

The short black mare with white spots strode forward, tossing her short black bob cut back with a hoof.

They were in a long corridor decorated with various art pieces, as per the rest of the Vain Galleria. Celestia was certain that they were each unique and gorgeous, but her mind was focused on the unveiling.

It was ponykind’s best hope against the Malformant threat, and she desperately needed it to work.

They came to a massive steel vault door. A burst of magic from Picturesque’s horn caused it to swing open. Inside was a single pony surrounded by several of Vain Galleria’s top engineers.

A pegasus mare with cyan fur, windswept blond mane and a Cutie Mark of a lightning bolt with three stars underneath.

What drew Celestia’s attention, however, were her wings. They didn’t match her body. Two massive limbs of blue and red patterned with stars that radiated an otherworldly light, the joints covered by a cluster of feathers along her back. They were reminiscent of a Malformant from the Griffin Empire that had laid waste to its outlying settlements, with a banner held between its claws.

Further inspection moved familiarity into assurance. These wings once belonged to Only Victory. Permanently grafted onto the test subject and granting all of the original Malformant’s abilities to her.

The DOM Initiative. A process designed to break a Malformant down into its core components and grant its power to a willing subject.

“Your name?” Celestia asked.

“Lightning Dust,” the mare replied.

“What is your purpose?”

“To capture and contain the invaders.” A predatory grin. “And I plan to always win.”

The Solar Princess smiled. It was an expression on the border of hope, madness, and desperation. A smile that resolved to go through with this no matter the consequences.

They had a new weapon.

She couldn’t wait to see the results.

Author's Note

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this world as much as I did. Though this story is done for the contest, I will be continuing to explore this story later in October with Chaos Redacted.

For those reading for enjoyment, I hope this intrigued you as much as did me. For judges, I hope this was a fun read for you.

Have a wonderful day, hopefully filled with less abominations than Celestia's.