PixieView OnlineEntertainersPixieShe'd locked herself out of her dorm. It wasn’t the first time, because of course not; Why would Trixie learn from her mistakes? She'd left her key inside—all of her keys, in fact. Even though she'd attached a literal bell to her keychain, and made sure every single one was as brightly colored as she could, she still forgot her keys on her desk. But she hadn't forgotten her phone, or her bottle of peach schnapps. So there was that. Trixie slumped against the door and slid to the floor, unable to feel her back against the rough wall, just as oblivious to the paint flakes that pulled off the door and tangled in her hair. She splayed out her legs, resting the bottle comfortably in the spot between her thighs. She rest one free hand on the top, then placed her chin on that hand and used the tip of the bottle as a sort of balancer; tilting her head at an angle as she placed her phone on the floor and typed in her password. Trixie caught a whiff of the alcohol as the scent slipped through her fingers, strong and putrid enough to make her nose wrinkle. It would have made her gag if her breath wasn’t just as vile. Maybe it was how plastered she’d gotten, but she found herself tunnelvisioned on her phone, idly scrolling through her contacts until she found one that sparked interest in her fugue-like state. “Cherry Rose, no. Twilight Sparkle, no; why do I even have her added? Sta—” Starlight Glimmer. She was startingly good at picking locks, a hobby that had proven useful to Trixie more times than she'd have liked to admit. Breaking into a dorm would be childsplay for her. Most things were. The question was, was Trixie really drunk enough to text her ex like in those awful late-night rom-coms? Maybe she would have, if it weren’t for the name that was under that name. “Pinkie Pie…” Trixie slurred, bringing the bottle to her mouth and taking a swig before sticking her tongue out and slamming it back on the ground. Was the sickening warmth in her chest really worth how disgusting it tasted? Pinkie Pie was the residential assistant for her floor, which was the main reason she was even in her contacts. Even as inebriated as she was, the ironic nature that one of magical rainbooms of her highschool, who had been her savior more than a few times, was now an overseer of sorts. They didn’t talk very often. The RA’s had to do mental health checks with the residents every couple of weeks, but Trixie never went to those, of course. Trixie’s mental health was as great and powerful as she once had been certain she was.. Pinkie did, however, have a master key that could unlock any dorm. No matter what Trixie’s thoughts on the ‘magnificently majestic main seven’, she knew that Pinkie and Fluttershy were selfless to an almost otherworldly degree. Fluttershy with animals, and Pinkie with people. No wonder she’s regarded as the best RA on campus, she’s perfect for it. “...Fine.” Trixie muttered to herself, tapping at the blurry shape of her phone until she heard a dial tone. She grunted in frustration as she tapped again with the sharp poking of her fingernails until she hit the speaker button, left with the echoing of a phone call before that satisfyling click put the dull ringing to silence. “Trixie! Hey, girlie, how you doing?” Pinkie’s chipper voice was amplified by the emptiness of the halls, Trixie could practically hear the smile on the other side of the phone. “Trixie is…” she tried to hide her garbling under a cough, and was too drunk to tell if she did a good job or not. “Powerful, but not very great. She may have— blergh." The alcohol finally hit her stomach with a burp she could taste. “She locked herself out of her dorm. And left the keys to her, well, everything in there. Could you mayhaps—” “Use my master key to get your keys to their master?” Pinkie said it like it was some awful pun, chuckling to herself the way Trixie had always seen her do with others. “Sure! I’m in the building right now, actually! I was gonna go out this Thirsty Thursday, but I actually have an exam tomorrow that I just finished studying for. Give me five minutes!” With the opening of a door, Pinkie was in the hallway, scanning it like a security officer. “Or five seconds! ” Pinkie’s baby blue eyes spotted Trixie's in a moment, waving at her with her free hand as she held the phone against her ear with the other one. "Hi, Trixie!" She was still in her blue onesie, balloon and cupcake patterns sprinkled in a spectrum of colors. Trixie made a vague attempt at a wave back, only for her hand to fall to the cold ground. Pinkie made her way over in hops and skips, finally landing right in front of Trixie with enough pep for the both of them. “So, how’d you forget your ke—” Pinkie’s eyes, along with her smile, dropped to the half-empty bottle of schnapps in between her legs. “Oh. I see.” “Trixie has had a rough few weeks.” “I’m sure. That’s what the mental check-ins are for. You know, the ones you never go to. Hmmm,” Pinkie unzipped her onesie to just above her chest, reaching in and pulling out two small sticks wrapped in paper. “Here.” “Did you,” Trixie pointed to Pinkie’s chest right as she was zipping her onesie back shut. “Retrieve those from your breasts?” “They're tiddy pixie sticks, yes.” She opened one of them and stuck it in her mouth, extending the other one to Trixie. “Want one? I’ve got a few tucked away for emergencies just like this!” “Uhm,” While Trixie could tell there was only one in Pinkie’s hand, they were blurry enough to be three; the darkness in the hall didn’t help. She tried to keep her arm steady as she reached out for it, managing to grab one of the three and hoped it was the right one. “Sure.” “Great!” Without a word, Pinkie adjusted Trixie’s grasp to the left and curled her fingers around the candy. Trixie guided it back toward her chest as Pinkie plopped down beside her and swiftly grabbed the bottle of schnapps. “Hey, Trixie paid fifteen dollars for that bottle. She’s going to finish the whole bottle.” “Oh yeah? How are you going to do that—” Pinkie brought the bottle to her mouth, bringing the end of it to mouth as tried to chug it like water. Trixie wound up with her fist and unleashed it in the general direction of Pinkie's face, but missed and connected with the bottle instead. It flew out of Pinkies grip and bounced down the hall, leaving its contents on the floor as a mess for someone to clean up. “'when there’s no contents left,' was what I was going to say. I meant to drink that, but that works too!” Pinkie reached over and lifted the bottle, propping it against the wall so it stopped spilling. “What a waste.” Trixie murmured as she pressed her back against the wall again, slightly shifting from side to side as she couldn’t quite find a balance. "Why'd they even choose you to run those mental health checks, anyway?" “Oh, all the RA’s have to do them, silly!” Pinkie placed a hand on Trixie’s shoulder, more or less stabilizing her. “You know what you need more than alcohol? Pancakes!” “Pan—” Trixie tasted bile in the back of her throat, but swallowed it. “Pancakes?” “Pancakes!” Pinkie wrapped Trixie's arm around her shoulders and pulled herself to her feet, bringing Trixie with her and making sure she had someone to lean on. “There’s a Denny’s just down the block. I go there all the time when I’m drunk; it helps a lot.” “But it’s, like,” Trixie glanced at her wrist, looking for a watch that she didn’t own. “Really late. And Trixie doesn’t have her wallet.” “Do I look like I get drunk on a schedule? They're open 24 hours. In fact, I have a tab there! And don’t worry about paying. Consider it me paying you back for the half of the bottle I spilled. I’ll personally bring you back and make sure you get to your dorm safe and sound." “Well…” Trixie looked at her door, then back at Pinkie, whose hands were clasped to her chest. “Trixie supposes she’s been on worse dates?" "A date?" Pinkie tilted her head, pursing her lips into an 'o' shape. "Oh no. No offense, but our first date would probably be at a party instead of a Denny's. This is just me being a good friend." "Hmmmmm." Trixie droned to herself, briefly enjoying the sound of her own voice." Very well, but be warned: Trixie will feast like the royalty she is. “Yes! Slay, queen!” Trixie tried really hard not to throw up. ______________ The Denny’s really was just a block away, with Pinkie offering her shoulder the entire way. Once they got there, they were guided to a table where they sat across from each other. It was relatively empty, with only the people working there and one old guy enjoying a coffee at 3 AM. Trixie had had a lot of drunk experiences, but nothing like this. “So.” They had already ordered their pancakes, and now were in the awkward silence phase of eating. Usually, Trixie had no issue filling the air with her voice. The thing was, sober Trixie and drunk Trixie were two very different people. “Do you come to this Denny’s often?” “Only when I’m drunk. So like, uhhhh,” Pinkie tapped her fingers against the table like she was typing something, her eyes half-lidded in thought. “Once every two weeks? I saiiidddd I don’t schedule when I drink, but it tends to happen pretty consistently. You?” Pinkie rested both of her elbows on the table, placing her chin on the cusp of her hands and looking at Trixie like a child waiting for their parents to tell them a story. “Not often, Trixie found out the hard way that she cannot perform when hungover. That said, recently she’s found herself—” A flash of purple and green in her mind. That smile, that sparkle in her eyes, the way her hair curled. The thought used to bring Trixie the prettiest butterflies in her chest. Now it just summoned the sharpest needles. “In tough times. Perhaps the toughest of tribulations she has yet partaken of. And so she drinks, for the warmth of the alcohol erodes the cold loneliness... for a little while, at least.” Trixie raised her hand, her fingers curled around an imaginary glass as if to make a toast. “Trixie, you know alcohol doesn’t make your problems go away, right?” Pinkie’s animation personally fell, her voice becoming almost stern with its seriousness as her eyes wavered. “Drinking for fun or confidence is one thing, but when you drink to ignore your problems they’ll just get bigger when you see them again.” “Trixie…is well-aware of that.” Her arm fell to the table with a clank, then was brought back to her face as rubbed her eyes. “I just need time, ok? Drinking gives me time, and that’s enough for Trixie right now.” Pinkie crossed her arms, leaned forward and stared straight into Trixie. Trixie never had any idea what was going on inside that cotton-candy head of hers. Not back at the concerts, not at parties when she seemingly knew everyone there, and especially not now. Sober or drunk, Trixie had no idea what Pinkie was thinking as she looked at her. It would have been terrifying if she wasn’t so wasted out of her gourd. “Ok then, I getchu. Why don’t yo—oh, thank you!” Pinkie broke off as the waitress brought their drinks—coffee for Trixie and green tea for Pinkie. Pinkie had recommended against the coffee originally since alcohol was already dehydrating, but the list of adjectives that described Trixie very prominently included "stubborn". “Anyway, spill the tea, sis! Tell me what’s got you so down in the wagon?” For a very brief moment, Trixie considered reaching over the table and tipping the cup of steaming tea that Pinkie was carefully blowing on; she was drunk enough to play it off. In the end, she decided against it. For now. “Trixie has been...” Once more, she had that opportunity to rant about her ex, to drown in the sorrow she had swallowed so feverishly. Even worse, Pinkie would listen to every word with a sympathetic intensity, like she always did for others' problems. Something about that would set her off. So she’d talk about something else. “Burnt out on entertainment recently.” “Oh yeah?” Pinkie tilted her head, grabbing a straw from a container and tapping it against the table to peel the paper off. “I’ve had a bit of experience with that. Well, more than a bit, really.” A strange sense of graveness tainted her voice as she took a sip from her tea, briefly closing her eyes as placed the cup back on the table and ran a finger through her hair; fluffing her hair like one would a pillow. “Anywho, go on!” And just like that, it was gone. “It’s…” Trixie fumbled over her words, whether or not because it was inebriated or because she was trying to figure out how to lie without lying was the hard part. “That spark. That childlike innocence, the fascination. It’s not—” she slammed her fist on the table, “—there anymore! It’s burned out without even embers to do anything.” “So, you’ve lost interest in being a performer?” “Not at all!” Trixie saw herself in Pinkie’s eyes, just a moment of self-awareness in the window of someone elses soul. It burned. She dropped her gaze to the coffee, where her reflection was so blurred and black it was unrecognizable. Something about that was comforting. “I try just as hard, care just as much, I love h—” Trixie bit her tongue, a lot harder than she intended to. The taste of copper poisoned the well of saliva in her mouth. “My job. But no one nowadays believes in magic anymore. They're all too skeptical for even an illusion. Everyone wants to find the trick, or figure out the secret! No wants to believe! They... they just want…” A smile. That’s what she wanted to see in her ‘audience’. That sparkle in their eyes, the twinkle as their lips spread, that little gasp as she performed something and the sharp air filled their lungs. Sometimes, it started just when she talked and would be all flashy. That was nice. Trixie didn’t realize how nice that really was until it stopped. Now, those smiles would be for someone else, no matter how much she wanted them to be for her. Her smile would be for someone else. “To figure it out, like a puzzle. There’s no emotion in it, and I hate it. It’s lonely. Is this my future? Putting my heart and soul into what I love only for it to never be reciprocated? Or for it to be given back at first, and then dwindle away, leaving me a sobbing mess? That’s torture!” Trixie couldn’t bring herself to look up, to see what kind of expression Pinkie had on her face. A sympathetic, listening smile, an empathetic frown; or something completely unreadable. What she focused on instead was the cup of coffee in front of her that she hadn’t even touched yet. It was hard to say why. Was she afraid she was so drunk she might burn herself on it? Something dripped down the sides of her face, she couldn’t quite feel it. “I miss it. I miss that joy. I can’t, I won’t do that. I d-don’t…” What was that choking sound coming from her throat? Was that sobbing? She hadn’t cried since she was a kid. It was disgusting. It made her feel ugly. “I don’t want to be alone.” There was a numbing warmth in Trixie’s cheeks, so potent she couldn’t feel the tears rolling down them until she saw them drip onto the coffee. There was a sourness in the back of her throat behind the layer of alcohol that covered her tastebuds, and the heat in her face did little for the bizarre cold that perforated the rest of her senses. She’d always hated the cold. A pink hand wrapped around her own, pleasant to the touch and with the gentleness of an angel. “I understand.” Trixie raised her head, and realized how much of a mess she’d become literally in Pinkie’s eyes. Her makeup in shambles, masquera running down her face like a spilled drink, it was ugly. She felt ugly. Maybe she was ugly. Maybe thats why the magic was. “I—I need to go to the bathroom.” “Oh.” Pinkie’s hand pulled back, Trixie found herself missing that contact as fleeing as it was. “Ok. Lemme go with you. You never know what kinda weirdos might be in a denny’s bathroom at three am.” “You’—” Trixie bit her lip, trying not to let that intrusive though out of her lips. “Sure.” As soon as they stood up, Pinkie quickly grabbed Trixie by the wrist, just as softly as before. It was firm, but didn’t hurt at all. It felt…safe. As soon as Trixie saw a sink, she yanked out of that small grasp of comfort, turning on the cold water and splashing it against her face. It was hard to tell over the sound of rushing water, but it sounded like Pinkie was standing right behind her. Unmoving and watching with a cautious gaze. Once it was over, and the vague stickiness on her face was gone, she turned it off and she looked at herself in the mirror. That was the worst mistake she’d made tonight. Her silver hair, once radiant and curled to perfection, was a splayed mess. Splotches of her makeup were still there, the light had vanished from her eyes. Dark circles sat under them like she’d taken a sharpie and shaded her own skin, the blush was gone, the smile was gone. She wasn’t great. She wasn’t powerful. She was barely even— “Trixie?” Pinkie. Trixie spun to her, and she was blinded. Pinkie was as pure as she was, well, pink. Those blue eyes of her didn’t view her any differently, despite seeing her at her worst. There was a sparkle in her pupils she was so familiar with, that was so beautiful. It reminded her of Starlight in the worst way. “Are you ok—” Trixie kissed her. She tasted like candy.
Candy and SmokeView OnlineEntertainersCandy and SmokeThe sweetest candy. So sweet, it made her throw up. Or maybe that was the copious amounts of alcohol she consumed that was finally coming back up. Hard to say. All Trixie knew was she needed to throw up; preferably not down the nice girl's throat. She stumbled into one of the nearby stalls, managing to hover her face over the seat and upchuck whatever conglomeration of liquids sat in her stomach. Almost immediately, Pinkie followed her in, yanking on her hair perhaps a bit too hard, but it was appreciated nonetheless. Pinkie placed her free hand on Trixie’s back, rubbing it with a gentleness that felt like she’d done it many times before. Not a single strand of Trixie’s magnificent hair was stained with bile as she threw up, tears in the corner of her eyes and the rancid taste of vomit lingering on her mouth even after she’d emptied her stomach. When she was done, Trixe just sat there and took in the musty of air of the bathroom, leaning against the stall and wiping her face. “Any better?” “Trixie ... .is always,” she dry heaved, placing a hand over her mouth. It quickly passed. “At her best.” “Mhm, I’m sure.” Pinkie chuckled, getting to her feet and extending her hand. “Can you stand?” “Trixie can do anything!” Trixie said as her knees wobbled, almost buckling and falling to the ground face first. Luckily, Pinkie caught her, wrapping her arms around Trixie’s side. “So can Pinkie! When she’s sober.” With careful steps, Pinkie guided her back to their stall, where two plates of pancakes waited for them. She guided Trixie to her stall, making sure she got safely in and didn’t make out with the floor. Trixie stared at the pancakes like they were going to mug her for pocket change, poking them tentatively with the fork she’d been provided. “You know, you don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to.” Pinkie had already chomped into her first one, leaving half it hanging from her fork. “I know for me when I get drunk I get hungry, but some people get super nauseous and can’t eat at all. Probably should have asked you that before ordering pancakes for you to be honest.” “No, Trixie can—” her stomach gurgled, and not out of hunger. She dropped the fork, fidgeting in her seat and trying her best to ignore it. “Maybe Trixie’s just not hungry; she apologizes.” “Don’t worry about it. My tuitions already paid for this month.” she finished her pancakes, swallowing it whole with disturbing ease. She dug her fork in the center of the second one, before flinching as she just held it there. “So, maybe I should wait until you’re sober to ask this, but you might forget.” Trixe was leaned down when Pinkie spoke, trying to nibble off a corner of the pancake. The flavor hardly registered beneath her alcohol-laced breathe, but the texture was extremely soft and pleasant to chew. “Yesh?” Pinkie chuckled a bit at the sight, before her face grew stiff. “Why did you kiss me?” Trixie froze, the warmth of The Denny’s seeming to vanish for just a moment as she gulped. Some part of her wanted to believe she actually didn’t do that, or that if she did, then they’d both write it off as silly drunk antics and nothing more. Unfortunately, Pinkie was able to see through that guise. “Trixie…” She shook her head, rubbing a hand up the side of her head and grabbing a handful of her hair. “I don’t know. No, that’s a lie, I do know, I just don’t want to put it in words; there’s no succinct way to do so.” “Trixie, we’re in a Denny's at three am.” Pinkie began lightly stabbing the fork into the pancake, poking little stab marks into the batter. “Plus, you’re hammered; I don’t expect you to talk like Shakespear like you normally do.” “Trixie doesn’t…well, okay, mayhaps on occasion she has dipped into a much older tongue.” There was the very brief period of her time where Trixie was in theater and believed her future to entail method acting. Of course, that meant she forced herself to actually learn olden english, and speak it for a good few weeks after her role as Ophelia was done. It took even longer not to slip into every now and again. “Come on, you referred to yourself with ‘thy’ for months. Not to mention that you, unironically, used ‘ye’ to refer to places.” Trixie could feel her face going flush for a reason aside from the intoxication. “Regardless!” She said a bit louder than she intended. “Trixie kissed you because…she needed comfort.” “Comfort?” Pinkie began spinning her fork in a circle like a drill, though it wasn’t picking up speed. “I was comforting you; you could have hugged me if you want.” “Not that kind of comfort.” she emphasized, giving up on the pancakes. “Trixie…in that moment, was overwhelmed. I needed something else, to be distracted, to just,” she’d never put it in words, never gave it a first thought. It was an internal sensation she had, or perhaps a lack of one, that had always pushed her to be intimate with another. Except for Starlight, that’s all it had ever been. It was a hole she never thought she’d find herself at the bottom at again. “To not exist.” Pinkie stopped her twirling, shifting in her chair and crossing her legs. Her lips parted as a noise that half-resembled a word escaped, before muting herself with a close of her jaw. Then, she reached forward, placing her hand on Trixie’s. “I understand.” Trixie could feel every syllable in Pinkie’s words, the vibrations as it went up and entered her ears. Her heart dropping, and, for just a fleeting second, a tingle of sobriety peeked through, and she forgot why she got drunk in the first place. “You do?” “I do. Probably better than you think.” She pulled her hand away, and Trixie found herself missing that touch much more than she expected to. “I’ve been where you have a few times. I know how easy it can be to just give in to every impulse just so you don’t have to think, how hard it is to not spiral like that. When I first got to college its basically all I did, haha.” Her laugh was hollow and solemn, like the static of a dying machine. Suddenly, Pinkie seemed much less interested in her pancakes, eyes staring off into the distance as she placed one arm on top of another. “After a while, you learn to live with it. But, every now and again, I need that ‘moment to not exist’ too. Despite that,” Pinkie turned back to Trixie, narrowing her eyes in something that almost resembled anger. “Please don’t try to use me like that again. I want to help you, but not like that; I won’t be that again.” ‘Again?’ Trixie was admittedly curious at the implications of that, but not enough to push it. “Trixie apologizes. It was a moment of weakness, as ashamed she is to admit she has those.” To Trixie’s surprise, Pinkie just laughed. Shaking her head as she raised her arms and ran her hands through her hair. “No need, but it’s appreciated. Actually, what are you doing tomorrow?” “Tomorrow?” Trixie took longer to search through the depths of her hazy memories than usual, but eventually her mental calendar came to mind; with the caveat of being as off as a crooked picture on a wall. “Trixie…has tomorrow off, she shall say. If she’s wrong, then the consequences are for future, sober, Trixie.” “Hmmm, I don’t know if I prefer sober Trixie. Drunk Trixie is more…” Pinkie tapped a finger against her elbow, droning to herself a tune Trixie didn’t recognize. “Sincere. Though, that may not be a good thing for you. Oh well!” Trixie tilted her head, her mouth slightly opening as she considered asking for elaboration. Of course, that was a rabbit hole anyone who knew Pinkie long enough was aware not to jump down. She didn’t have time for that. “Why do you ask?” “Because, I have an idea!” Pinkie reached into her mane, pulling out a small notebook and a pen that very much so resembled a lollipop. “Let’s see, with a few calls I can move that up to tomorrow, which would free up this party and…” She muttered to herself for nearly a minute, her pen moving almost as quickly as her words; Trixie could have sworn she saw bits of steam coming off the end of it. “Trixie, I think I have a solution for your burnout;” Pinkie flipped the notebook around, showing that she had filled one of the pages with a drawing of her, Trixie, and a very large birthday cake with multiple stick figures around it in a circle. “A party!” “A party?” “A kids party!” Trixie stared at the picture like she expected it to start moving. Knowing Pinkie, it very well could have. “A kids party.” She hadn’t been to one of those since…well, since her own parties when she was younger. Trixie never got along very well with children, for one reason or another. It wasn’t that she hated them, they just…didn’t seem to like her. Then again, that was long before she started her obsession with magic. Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea in the world. “Alright, Trixie’s game.” She tried once more to eat her pancake, ignoring the acidic taste in the back of her throat and the dull pain in her mouth. “Trixie will go to a kids party and show them the greatest performance their little minds can handle!” “Awesome!” Pinkie nearly jumped out of her seat, right before remembering where she was and what she had in her hands. “Then, we better get eating. It starts early tomorrow!” Trixie looked at how many pancakes she had left, and gulped. Her stomach was about to be as upset at her as her head will be in a few hours. __________________________ Trixie stumbled into her dorm, guided by Pinkie; she was even considerate enough to leave the lights off despite fumbling around in the dark. “Is that yo— no that’s a beanbag. Ah! Here’s your bed.” Pinkie, with Trixie draped over her back like the cape she tended to wear, was guided to her bed. She laid Trixie with extreme gentleness, placing her head on the pillow and the blanket up to her shoulders. She groaned, rolling onto her stomach and burying her nose so deep she could hardly breathe. It made Pinkie grin, just a little. She turned to walk out, only to feel something yanking on her sleeve. “Wait.” Trixie’s voice didn’t sound like her own at all. It was so small and quiet, as meek as Pinkie’s sister. Pinkie couldn’t even see Trixie’s face, most of it was hidden in the pillow or under a blanket. However, she could feel her hand. It was trembling. “I…haven’t slept by myself in a long time.” She said it with a reluctant sigh, as if admitting something she’d been waiting too for a while. “Please, sleep with me tonight. Just for tonight. Trixie…I’m begging you.” Pinkie was taken aback, which is a rarity for her. She’d never seen Trixie so vulnerable, nor had she heard her beg before. So how could she say no? “Scooch over.” Pinkie laid beside her, giving her most of the bed. They were close enough to hug if they wanted, but neither did. Instead, they held hands and shared a pillow. For the first time tonight, Pinkie was close enough to Trixie to smell her without the alcohol overpowering her senses. She smelled like firecrackers.
A Morning Wrought of MagicView OnlineEntertainersA Morning Wrought of MagicTrixie awoke to pain and the color pink. And cotton candy in her nose. Or, at least what smelt like cotton candy. It felt much worse in her nose than cotton candy ever did. As she blinked away the blurriness in her eyes, feeling the first tendrils of pain stretching from the back of her brain, she felt something against her chest and in her hands. It was soft, softer than any pillow or blanket or even cape. For just a fleeting second, Trixie forgot everything, and she convinced herself that it was Starlight. Here, in her bed, cuddling her like nothing had gone horribly wrong. She nuzzled her neck, held onto Starlights lovehandles for life itself, and got as close to her as feasibly possible. In that moment, Trixie did exist, and it was gorgeous. “Trixie, at least wait after our date.” That wasn’t Starlight’s voice. That wasn’t Starlight’s smell. That wasn’t Starlight’s body. Trixie’s heart started beating like a drum, shooting potent adrenaline through her system as she was fully awake. In her panic, she pushed Pinkie over the bed, slamming her spine into the cold wall. With a thump and an ‘owie’, Trixie was once more alone on the bed, blankets sprawled out in a mess. She tried desperately to catch her breath, wincing as the headache only got worse; eyes darting back and forth as if searching her memories. “W—why are you in Trixie’s bed?” Pinkie slowly got to her feet, rubbing her backside and running her hands up her sides, eventually ending in a stretch as she stood on the tip of her toes. “Because you asked me to be, silly!” Pinkie spun on the heel of her foot like a ballerina, stretching out her arms and leaning forward with impressive balance. “How much of last night do you remember?” Trixie dangled her legs off the edge of the bed, using her hands as makeshift hair brushes to straighten out the curls in her hair. “Uhm…” It all started coming back to her: the schnapps, the Dennys, the pancakes. The kiss. “Bits and pieces.” Trixie lied, a soreness in her face that creeped to her teeth even though they didn’t have muscles. “What is this about a date?” “Don’t remember that part huh? How convenient.” Trixie couldn’t tell if that was meant to come off as accusatory, but her anxious mind could only interpret it as so. “We’ve got a party today you agreed to.” As she said this, Pinkie’s eyes had begun to wander, and with them came steps in the direction of her gaze as it bounced between various things around Trixie’s room. “A party?” Trixie glanced down at herself, kicking her feet as she tested for bruises. “Trixie’s not sure she’s ready for that quite ye-” “Wow, is this your dad?” Pinkie snatched a picture frame off of Trixie’s desk, bringing it closer and farther to her face repeatedly like she was trying to bring a camera into focus on it, except it was just her eyes. “I can see where you get the…well, everything from!” “Oh, yes, that’s daddy and I at my first magic show. It’s what sparked Trixie’s delve into great and powerfulness!” “Oh wow, samesies! Though it was my sisters and throwing parties instead of magic.” Pinkie placed the photo back on the desk, nothing else on the desk had grabbed her interest. “It’s not a party party, it’s a kid’s birthday party. It’s fnaf themed, actually.” “Fnaf?” With a grunt, Trixie pushed herself off her bed and onto the floor, knees wobbling as she tilted back and forth and nearly had her seven seconds of heaven with the ground. “That movie about the haunted animatronics?” “Ohhhhh, it’s way more than that.” The enthusiasm dripped from Pinkie’s voice just a degree more intense than usual. “Trixie, tell me you’re caught up on the lore.” Trixie looked over what she was wearing; a purple blouse patterned with moons and wands, paired with black leggings that sparkled with layers of glitters she’d put there herself. “No, Trixie can not say she is.” Without an iota of hesitation, Trixie began taking off her clothes, heading towards her wardrobe and opening it as she began to shift through her catalogue of costumes. “It has caught her interest a few times, but every time she’s tried to look into it the different theories and conflicting details exhaust her. She fears it would take days to sort everything out, of which Trixie has far better things she could be doing.” Pinkie didn’t even bat an eye at the half naked Trixie, her pupils never trailing farther down than head level. Instead, she stood on one leg and leaned over, peering into the depths of Trixie’s fashion sense. “Oh wow, you don’t have this organized at all, do you?” “Not true! Trixie knows exactly where everything is; she has a system. It’s just,” She reached in at seemingly random, pulling out a skirt that reached to her knees. “Not a system known to any other but Trixie.” “Ah, valid. Anyway, that might be a problem since the kid is Micro Chip’s brother, and he is an absolute know-it-all with fnaf stuff.” “One of those? Trixie understands. Though, she must admit that she’s surprised a child like that has enough friends to throw a party with.” For her top, Trixie selected something more modest; a short sleeved button up with an undershirt that covered what the top shirt didn’t. “Hehe, see, that’s uh,” Pinkie poked the tips of her fingers against each other, her chin dropping to her chest. “Kinda why Chips asked me to host his brother's party. No kid says no to a Pinkie party, no matter how much of a prick the kid the parties for. He’s hoping he’ll make at least one friend.” “Ah, so a pity party of sorts?” Pinkie flinched, her half-smirk dropping like a glass cup into a scowl; an expression Trixie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen on Pinkie’s face before. “Don’t call it that.” Trixie’s blood stopped pumping in her veins, her very heart didn’t beat. It was very possibly the longest second of her life. And as quick as it happened, it was gone. “Anyway, I have just the video for you. Do you have two hours free before the party? It starts at five, I can send you the address and stuff later.” Trixie’s throat was dry, she was clutching the shirt in her hands so tightly her nails nearly stabbed through the fabric. “Y—yes.” “Awesome! Watch this when you get a chance then. It should tell you all the important stuff.” There was a ding on her phone as Pinkie sent her a message. She slipped on the rest of her clothes, typing in her password. She was just about to open it, before seeing the notification that was below it. Starlight had sent her a message. It was sometime around six am; she always liked getting an early start to her day. The message was right there, she could click it and know exactly what it was. That being said, it could be any number of things: an apology, a mini-essay, a final goodbye. The longer she stared at it, the more possibilities sprouted in her mind like weeds to a garden. She wasn’t sure whether to feel dread, excitement, or some conglomeration of the two. “Trixie? You aight?” Pinkie leaned over, peeking at Trixie’s phone. In a fright, she threw the phone across her shoulder, hearing it hit the wall and then, presumably, on her bed. There wasn’t a cracking sound, at least. She hoped. “Yeah, sorry. Just,” she finished the buttons, putting on the second shirt and making sure the sleeves didn’t get crinkled. “Someone sent me a jumpscare meme, sorry.” If Pinkie noticed the switch from first to third person, she didn’t say anything about it. Instead making a droning noise to herself and taking a few steps back. “Well, alrighty then! I’ll let you get to it, I’ve got an RA meeting to get to, some private tutoring, an exam; an average friday!” Pinkie made her way to the door, slipping on the Bluey crocks she came in. “But don’t be a stranger, text me if you need anything! I always make time for my girlfriends.” “I’m…” Trixie trailed off, placing a hand on her chest. She shook her head, stopping the train of thought before it got too far along the rails. “Of course. Trixie would be happy to bestow her attention upon you should she need it.” With the shutting of the door, Trixie was alone again. The same way she was when she got drunk. The same way she had been for the past few days. Her chest felt heavy, and not the way she always guessed Fluttershy’s must have been. “What a fucking start to a day.” Trixie closed her wardrobe, making her way to the bed with steps that got slower by the count. She picked up the phone, letting out a sigh of relief that it wasn’t broken in any way, and opened Pinkie’s message first. Her little bitmoji hovered in the chat, a smile abnormally wide and yet still not as big as Pinkie’s real smile. The title of the video she sent was ‘We solved fnaf and we’re Not Kidding.’ And it was, in fact, two hours. “Well, at least she’s considerate.” She saved the video for later, intending to watch it when she could find a menial task to keep her hands busy while it stayed in the background. Which left the message she was dreading. Out of fear, or maybe to put it off for a few seconds longer, she clicked on Starlight’s profile, checking to see if she’d been removed. Her name ‘GlimGlam1280’ still showed up with the little green icon beside it, so there as that. Trixie found herself holding her breath, thumb hovering just single inch above the screen. Eventually, she forced herself to open the message, revealing a single sentence waiting for her. Tell me when you’re about to leave your dorm, I’ll head over after and get my stuff and leave my key.’ She lost her grip on the phone as it slipped out of her hand, bouncing off the edge of the bed and right onto the floor. The dryness in her throat was gone, replaced by some thick blob crawling its way up her throat. Familiar, warm tears began streaming down her face. First one drop, then so many like the start of a storm. At least her hangover didn’t seem as bad in comparison.
The Party of 87!View OnlineEntertainersThe Party of 87!To Trixie’s surprise, the video Pinkie sent her was shockingly digestible. Were she to take a quest on the fnaf lore, she’d confidently get a solid B. That being said, it didn’t ease her worries of entertaining a bunch of children. It’s not that she lacked the ability per se, more the confidence. Not that she’d ever admit it; being focused was a much bigger concern. Every few minutes, she’d find herself checking her phone regardless of getting a notification or not. Most of the time, it was some guy she barely remembered giving her snapchat to sending a ‘wyd’ text. That, or one of her friends that communicates exclusively in memes and gifs. Never once was it from the person she actually wanted it to be. Trixie closed her car door, making her way to the pizzeria arcade with a vaguely reptilian mascot and the words ‘Lizard Larry’s Luxurious Funhouse’. “What a mouthful of a name.” She reached into her purse, triple checking that everything was in its place; including her notepad with highlights from the video in case she needed to refresh herself on specific details. “Oh, Trixie, you made it! Yay.” Pinkie hugged her as soon as she entered, wearing a frilly yellow dress that looked like something straight out of the medieval age; she was even wearing a crown. “Yes, Trixie is capable of following basic directions; hooray! Are you,” Trixie found her eyes stuck on Pinkie’s hair, which was now straight except for the ends on both sides that were curled upward. “The girl from Princess Quest?” Pinkie squealed, somehow louder than the kids that were running around wearing various animal masks. “Oh my gosh, you did watch the video!” She brought her hands to her chest, bouncing on her heels with impressive ease. “I thought you would have shrugged it off and watched one of those ‘fnaf explained in five minutes’ videos or something.” “Please, Trixie is nothing if not properly prepared. That being said, was Trixie supposed to dress up as one of the characters? She supposes she could have scrounged together something to resemble Circus Baby; though ponytails are not Trixie’s best look.” “No, no. I just did this as a deal with Dave, the birthday boy. He agreed to be less of a dick if I cosplayed as her. And, I also just love any excuse to wear a dress!” Pinkie spun in a circle, her skirt waving back and forth to an invisible wind. “Pretty, right?” Trixie looked Pinkie over, tilting her head and squinting her eyes. “Eh, yellow isn’t your color.” Pinkie’s smile wavered, though Trixie didn’t seem to notice. She scanned the room, noting all the ways it’d been fnafafied. Every table was covered in checkered sheets with the mascots on them, same could be said for the plates and utensils. Really, except for the animatronics themselves, the place could pass for an actual five nights at freddy’s attraction. “So, what is Trixie to do? She has brought her entire performance kit.” “Oh! The kids are expecting your magic showing in about an hour or so. Feel free to do whatever you like!” Another string of children ran past Trixie, not paying her any mind as they headed towards the arcade. In fact, as she looked around, she noticed a complete lack of adults aside from themselves and a handful of employees. “Where are the parents?” “At work or relaxing; I get paid extra for babysitting them too.” “Wait, you get paid for this? Trixie thought you did this for fun?” “I do! It’s both.” Pinkie started collecting the plates on a nearby table, cleaning it faster than Trixie’s seen some waitresses. “I have a pretty good reputation when it comes to kids parties; they trust me as much as they would with a daycare. If you like, since you’re helping me out today, I can split my pay with you?” “That’s kind of you, but Trixie will have to refuse. She doesn’t have money issues, per se. Let’s just imply that her college expenses are…” Her phone buzzed, the name ‘JackPot’ hovering on the screen. She grimaced, clicking the decline button and holding the power button until it went to black. “More than paid for. Regardless, it shouldn’t take Trixie more than thirty minutes to set things up properly. Though, things would go much more swiftly were she to have an assistant.” “Ohhhh! Pick me, pick me!” Pinkie jumped up and down, waving her hands like she just didn’t care. “I’ve always wanted to be a magician’s assistant! Though, I left my body suit and ostrich feather-headdress at home.” “You have a body suit and ostrich feather-headdress at home?” “Trixie, I’m a party girl.” Pinkie stated with a hand to her chest, puffing it out in a declaration of pride. “I have clothing for every occasion.” “Yes, well, what you’re wearing now should do. A good assistant is not defined by their dress wear; though it does help.” “Yay!” She grabbed Trixie, embracing her in another hug. This one wasn’t nearly as intimate as the morning prior, but it was sincere, and soft. A warmth ran up to her cheeks at the contact, the image of Starlight popping in her head. It was pleasant, for only a moment. Then came down the reality, and the weight that carried with it. Trixie struggled her way out of Pinkie’s iron clasp, stepping backwards and spinning with her cape like there was air blowing. “D—do not celebrate quite yet, my apprentice. This may prove to be a more trying endeavor then you may expect. Come, help me set things up and then I will tell you of the magic we will enlighten others to tonight.” Trixiie placed her hands on her face, rubbing her cheeks until the heat went away. The stage was set. The children were in their seats. And magic was in the air. The curtains were down, and Trixie waited for her beloved assistant to give it her calling. “And now, with an entrance so flashy Wally West is jealous, The Great and Powerful Trixie!” Trixie pushed the curtains aside, running out to the front of the stage and opening her cape; the glitter and rhinestones that lined the inside made it sparkle light the stars of the night sky. “Greetings, children! I am your sommelier of illusion, connoisseur of magic; and proficient in all things showmanship!” There was a moment of terse silence, all the children staring at either Trixie or each other. “She means she’s going to do some really cool magical tricks and spells!” With Trixie’s clarification, many of the children’s eyes lit up, some of them even began to clap. Anxiety creeped up to Trixie’s heart, but every sound of applause made it recede like a monster to a torch. She allowed her smile to stretch just a few more inches, the slightest bit of genuineness in it. “Thank you, thank you!” Trixie bowed, tossing her hat in the air and catching it in her offhand. “Now then, the easiest trick to start with would be making something appear from nothing. I could, of course, pull a rabbit out of a hat. But isn’t that a tad cliche? After all, isn’t there something people like just a bit more than a bunny? Like,” she reached into the hat, pulling out a golden retriever that was barely bigger than her head. “Puppies!” The children went wild, some of them bursting out of their seats to pet the pupper. Trixie was a lot of things, but she wasn’t one to deprive a child the sheer joy of affection. She lowered herself to the end of the stage, holding the puppy in both of her hands and extending them. It was soon swarmed with hands, petting every inch of fur it had. She could feel its heart beating rapidly, the warmth of its soft complimentary to the energy in the room. “Oh, what’s this? It seems this hat is a little larger than meets the eye! It seems to be brimming with…” She reached into the hat, going so deep it went up to her shoulder which shouldn’t have been possible, and then pulled it out with a popping sound. “Candy!” Dozens of wrapped up candy, anything from tootsie rolls to peppermints, spreading across the crowd and landing on tables or in the hands of children with absurd accuracy. If possible, the kids got even more rambunctious. Trixie leaned over to Pinkie, holding her smile and whispering through clenched teeth. “How did you do that? I never even saw you touch my hat.” Pinkie chuckled, giving Trixie a wink. “A magician never reveals her secrets, right?” “Oh ho!” Trixie laughed, bumping shoulders with Pinkie. “Ye be a usurper for the title of Great and Powerful?” “Not at all.” Pinkie hip-checked her in response. “I strive to only be the best assistant; second place has always suited me well.” Her voice had its typical pep to it, but something was missing underneath. The lack of enthusiasm in her words, the way the corners of her smile wavered or the skin around her eyes bunched. It was painful. “Then, as the top and up and comer,” Trixie grabbed Pinkie’s hand, raising it along with hers. “Let’s give these children the best show they’ve ever seen!” Pinkie’s grip was soft at first, not soft like last night; soft like having no energy. She couldn’t meet Trixie’s gaze, turning away and hiding most of her face. Just vaguely, Trixie heard Pinkie mutter something under her breath, bringing her free hand to her face and lightly tapped her cheeks. “You’re right,” Pinkie’s eyes sparkled, her face blooming like the most gorgeous flower Trixie’s ever seen. “We have to do it to’em. And I know just the way to spice things up.” She leaned over, whispering something into Trixies ear. “Really? You want to do it so soon?” “Trust me, they’ll love it!” Trixie considered it for a moment, peering over the ocean of offspring before her; chewing at the bit for her next mirage. “Hmm, if you insist. Keep the crowd entertained while I fetch the box; this shall be a birthday finale of the ages.” There were a few groans and sighs as she pulled away the puppy, holding it to her chest and tracing its ears with her fingers. She placed it in the pen, letting it drink from its bowl and chew on the toy bone she got for it. The name ‘Lance Barkton’ on the front of his collar. A few moments later, Trixie pushed a large, box-shaped object on wheels to the center of the stage. At first glance, many would have mistaken it for a printer; they’d be a little right. If only it weren’t for the crank on the side. And the giant tub attached to the back. “Now then, for our second and final act, I’m going to print my very own Pinkie Pie!” Pinke began to place herself in the tub, lifting her dress and placing them over the edges of the tub like petals. “This device is known as The Mangle Box! Though, unlike the one you’re familiar with, this variant keeps them in one piece. That being said,” Trixie placed a hand on the crank, and with Pinkie descended into the tub, waving at the children with a beam that someone could see their reflection in. “Perhaps that’d be preferable to the fate that’s bestowed to Pinkie on this night.” The smiles and laughter of the children turned to frowns and gasp, unable to do anything but watch. Before they knew it, Pinkie’s face had fallen into the box of doom, every bit of her dress sunken into the abyss of blades. Printed out onto some sort of material that was somewhere between paper and cardboard, all with her smile as wide as it's ever been. “Wonderful, it came out with everything in place. All that’s left is to give it a home. Who would like to adopt this beauty?” None of the children responded, dejection and defeat in the air like pollen. Then, a single puff of pink hair poked out from the crowd; bouncing with every step. “Oh, I do I do!” Heads spun, gasps followed one after another, and the sobbing turned to cheers. Pinkie Pie approached from the back of the room, swerving between the tables with the ease and swiftness of a derby skater. She hopped on the stage, taking the print of herself and stretching it in front of her. “Oh yeesh, you’re right. Yellow is not my color!” She began to fold it until it was the size of a post-it note, raising the skirt of her dress and placing it in the pockets of her pants underneath. “Which leads me to the next and final trick!” “Next trick?” Trixie repeated, forgetting to lower her voice as her arms fell to her chest. Her eyes darted to Pinkie’s, just as quickly shifting back to the children as she cleared her throat. “Of course, next trick!” “The classic!” Pinkie placed a hand on her stomach, tightly gripping her dress and giving it one heartful tug. No ripping or tearing, coming off with an ease so impressive Trixie herself was briefly in awe. “Switching outfits in an instant!” In the blink of an eye, Pinkie was wearing the body suit she mentioned earlier. A red corset around her waist, paired with a black skirt and white leggings that matched the long gloves on her arms. Even her shoulders and chest were covered with a bright blue fabric that didn’t match the rest of the dress; the wig having been tossed behind her and replaced with a comically large ostrich headdress. “Wow! You’re so pretty, Miss Pie!” “Yeah! You look just like Circus Baby!” “Oh my gosh!” Pinkie placed her hands on the sides of her face, dropping her jaw in an animated manner and reminded Trixie of a painting she saw when she was younger. “I should have gone as Circus Baby! Welp, I know what’s keeping me up tonight.” Trixie placed a hand over her mouth, suppressing a laugh as she moved closer to Pinkie. She wrapped her arm around Pinkie’s hips, pressing closer to her. They looked into each other's eyes, and bowed. “Trixie is not a fan of the cleaning up part!” After the parents came to pick up the children, Pinkie and Trixie were cleaning up. Most of the staff were in the kitchen shutting things down and getting things ready for closing. “But Trixie, aftercare’s great! Sometimes, it's just as good!” Trixie paused what she was doing, swallowing the heat in her mouth and stacking up the plates. She found herself surprised that it was much cleaner than she expected, maybe children weren’t as messy at parties as they used to be? “R—remind Trixie why we are doing the clean-up? She does not recall being hired here.” “Oh! That’s because I have a deal with every place I throw parties for: I help with whatever mess that was made and I get my back of leftover food!” “Wait, so, let Trixie understand this correctly.” She placed the final cup, grabbing one of the napkins and using it to wipe your hands. “You get paid for both the parties and the babysitting, as well as being provided free food?” “Yep!” Pinkie spun with stacks of plates in both hands, facing Trixie without so much as a wobble. “I love it!” “Then, why even go to college?” “To keep up with the girls, and for the experience, obviously! College is like, party central. Not to mention I love meeting new people, and what better time than now!” “You’re going to college for the experience? That sounds expensive, how can you afford it?” Pinkie paused as she placed the pile of plates on the window to the kitchen, keeping her grip on the bottom of the stacks with her back facing Trixie. She stayed silent. It might have been her imagination, but Trixie could have sworn she saw Pinkie’s knees trembling. “I saved up for a while is all! I’ve been working at Sugarcube Corner since I was little.” Trixie grew still, watching Pinkie as she walked back to one of the only tables they hadn’t gotten to yet. Tilting her head and looking anywhere but at Trixie. “I see.” She decided not to pry any further. Pinkie had already done far too much for her to deserve that. “How do you have the free-time to party so much, Pinkie? You sound so busy.” “That’s easy. I’m very organized! I actually used to be super bad at it, until Twilight sat me down and taught me how to allocate time properly and chunk it out. Since then, everythings been chunked and I do different stuff on different days. Actually, now it’d feel weird to just do stuff when I feel like it.” Before Trixie could say a word more, one of the employees rang the bell at the window. “Pinkie, come pick what doesn’t get thrown out.” “Yipee!” Pinkie zoomed into the castle door, leaving Trixie alone with only the paraphernalia of a fnaf themed party. Try as she might, she couldn’t find a single thing out of place. Pinkie really was meticulous. Trixie stopped in front of one of the posters, which had all four of the animatronics on it. The tips of her fingers tickled, a mischievous urge poking her lips as she tried to suppress a smile. She glanced over her shoulders, double checking that she was alone. She stood on the tips of her toes, pressing her finger against the end of Freddy’s nose. “Boop.” There was, to her dismay, no squeaking noise. “Ok, I hope you like smore pizza as much as I do!” Trixie spun to face her, hiding her hands behind her back and taking a large, obvious step away from it to the nearest table and sitting down. “...Smore pizza?” Pinkie sat across from her, opening the box placing a plate on both sides of the table. “Smore Pizza!” Trixie picked up a slice, trying to decide between curiosity and disgust. It was certainly shaped like pizza, though it was covered in marshmallows and parts of chocolate bars, sprinkled with some sort of chocolate sauce. As much as she’d love to say it’s the worst thing she’s eaten, it wasn’t anywhere close. “It’s certainly,” she chewed slowly, the taste conflicting with the texture in a way that left her undecided whether to swallow it or not. “The chewiest pizza I’ve had.” “It’s an acquired taste. Helps that I have a whole set of sweet teeth.” Pinkie ended up eating several pieces in the time it took Trixie to eat two, splattering crumbs and bits of chocolate sauce on her face. “Pinkie, have you thought about entering an eating contest?” “All the time!” she wiped her face, closing the box and moving it over to the side of the table. “I’m scared to, though. I’m sure I’d be good at it, I’m just worried that when you do anything competitive you stop enjoying it. If I did that with eating, that’d be awful.” “Hmmm,” Trixie turned on her phone, immediately receiving several notifications, most of which were from ‘JackPot.’ That was one thing she didn’t need to ruin her day. “I suppose that makes sense.” “Mhm! So, how was your day? Get a lot done? You know, aside from catching up on fnaf lore.” Trixie couldn’t help but stare at her phone screen, scrolling through her notifications and hoping to see something other than her dad trying to get into contact with her or some random guy trying to get read. Hopefully, something, anything, from Starlight. “Trixie?” “Ah!” Pinkie had leaned over, getting incredibly close to Trixie without touching her. She nearly jumped out of her seat, dropping her phone to the ground and having to pick it up. “You spaced out there for a sec.” “Yeah, I’m sorry. This has not been m—” she pursed her lips. “Trixie’s best week.” Pinkie placed her chin on her hand, her smile shrinking from an open mouth to a small smirk, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve noticed.” She felt like she was stabbed in the chest. Trixie placed a hand where her heart was, tracing it with her finger with no real symbol in mind. “Trixie’s sorry.” Pinkie tilted her head. “For what?” “For lying to you. When she said that she was upset about people losing interest in magic, that wasn’t the truth. Well,” her hand clenched, running up her collarbone and staying there as she gripped her own shoulder. “Not the entire truth.” “Oh.” Pinkie’s mouth curled into an ‘o’, her chair creaking as she pulled it into the table. “I already knew that, silly.” “What?” Trixie moved in her seat, shifting forward in her seat. “You knew?” “I’m not easy to lie to, especially not by someone drunk off their ass.” Pinkie winked, sticking her tongue out of her mouth. “Then…why did you help Trixie?” “Cuz you’re my friend, sis.” She stood up. “What do you want to drink?” “Um,” Trixie had to take a moment to answer, recovering from the mental whiplash. “Sprite please.” Trixie watched her walk to the drink machine, getting two clean cups and filling one with sprite and the other with dr pepper. She came back with two straws, placing the cup in front of her and the straw beside it. “You know, and yet, you never asked?” “I never ask.” Pinkie placed her straw in the drink, sipping until only half of it was left. “If you want to talk about it, you’ll talk about it. It’s rude to put someone on the spot by asking like that.” “So you don’t want to know?” “I didn’t say that.” She put the straw between her fingers, spinning it in a circle until the drink looked like the waves of an ocean. “I’m very nosy, just polite.” Trixie hummed, tapping the tips of her fingernails against the plastic. “Trixie has heard that talking about it can often make carrying them easier. If she were to tell you,” She closed her eyes, taking in the dull scent of the room and the way the lukewarm air made the heat in her body just a little worse. “You would keep it to yourself?” “Without a doubt. All tea spilled to the wrong person does is burn you.” “Is that…” Trixie’s face scrunched. “Did you just quote tumblr?” “Half of the things I saw are taken from Tumblr.” she nonchalantly took another sip. “The other half is from twitter.” “I can’t tell if you’re joking.” “That’s what makes me mysterious.” Trixie sighed, making no effort to hide the grin that snuck its way on her lips. Though, like a picture, it only lasted a moment. “Her name is Starlight Glimmer. She was the love of my life.” Pinkie paused, squeezing the straw in between her fingers just a nudge tighter. Her smile wasn’t gone, but the rest of her had grown more tense. “We met in a sociology course I had to take, and we ended up clicking. We were together for a year, and…well, I won’t bore you with the details.” The sprite burned her throat like cold lava, she rubbed it with her free hand to try make it more tolerable. “You wouldn’t bore me.” “Even so, we would be here for hours. Trixie may not have anything better to do, but certainly you do.” Pinkie shrugged. “Nothing more important than making time for my friends.” Trixie couldn’t help but laugh, as hollow as it sounded. “You’re too charming for your own good.” “I try. I’ve rizzed up a few maidens in my days.” Trixie choked, nearly tipping over the drink. “Please don’t ever say that again.” Pinkie laughed, eventually devolving into snorting as she held her sides. “Oh, I forgot about this thing. Keep going, I’m just going to take this off.” She started undoing her corset, taking off her ostrich headdress and setting it on the ground beside her. “We…we had a big fight last weekend. She told me that I was too needy sometimes, that I couldn’t let her live her life or have friends that weren’t me. That I was,” the corner of her eyes stung. Trixie sucked air through her teeth, rubbing her eyes the way a toddler would when they were sleepy. “Too much. She said she needed time and space to focus on her education and find herself, and I just…she couldn’t do that with me.” There was no sound, not even rustling as Pinkie took off the corset. She didn’t sip her drink, she didn’t tap her fingers against the glass. And she didn’t stop smiling. “Aren’t you,” Trixie swallowed, gripping the cup so tightly her knuckles were pale. She wasn’t sure if she could let go if she wanted to. “Going to tell how i could make things right? That i should talk to her?” Pinkie just shook her head. “That’s not what you want, is it?” Trixie didn’t respond, arching her back and resting her head on her arms. The bubbles in the drink fizzed up, reached the surface and popped. She found herself counting each one. “Maybe I could tell you how you would have handled things better, or that its not your fault, or something else reassuring. I’ve done that plenty of time; sometimes it helps a little. But, really, aren't those all things you’ve already told yourself?” Trixie had nothing to say to that. “I’m here to help people get back up from falling down, not tell them how they could have avoided falling down in the first place.” “...so nice.” Pinkie’s ears flickered. “What was that?’ “Why are you so nice?” “I’m not that nice. I can be a real bitch when I want to be.” “Heh, I’d love to see that.” “No you wouldn’t, trust me.” There was a serious tone to Pinkie’s words, almost like a threat. It was cold, made more chilling by the contrast to how warm her words usually were. It reminded her of something else Pinkie said to her, as hazy as that night's memories were. “Is that what you meant when you said ‘you won’t be used like that again?’. Were you too nice to someone?” Pinkie stopped all movement, turning into a statue as her shoulders dropped. For once, she was the one to drop eye contact. Trixie was starting to regret it bringing that up. As much as she wanted to apologize, there was this weight in her throat that prevented in words from leaving; maybe she’d opened her mouth enough. “What are you doing tomorrow?” Pinkie still didn’t look at her, but her voice was as distinct as always. “Uhm,” Trixie raised her head, staring at a spot on the table and spinning the half-empty glass in the palm of her hand. “It’s Saturday, so not really anything.” “Good.” Pinkie drank her half-full glass, consuming the remaining dr pepper in moments. “Would you like to come over to my dorm tomorrow?” “Huh.” She met Trixie’s gaze, though her eyes were half-closed and there was a tightness to her face. Pinkie was gripping the edges of the table, scooting the chair in so close it pushed against her chest. “My dormmates go home on weekends, so I have the place to myself. You can sleepover at my place, if you like.” “...Why do you want me to come over?” “Because,” Pinkie’s hair didn’t seem as springy as usual. She blew out hot air, letting go of the table and placing her hands on the table. “I don’t want to be alone either.” Trixie stared at Pinkie’s hand, held in a fist. Without thinking, she placed her own hand on top, as carefully as she could. “Alright.” She raised her head, taking in a shaky breath before smiling. “Yay.” This ‘yay’ was much softer than usual, but maybe that's what made it special.
