Applied Mathemagics

I wake up early, determined to make actual progress on the golem runes. No distractions. No Twilight trickery. Just work.

Technically, I don’t need this thing to fight. I need it to do manual labor. Heavy lifting, digging, and carrying things so I don’t have to. Simple.

The runes are still a mess of trial and error, but I can adjust them as needed—weakening and reshaping the intergranular bonds of the material with my magic. It’s tedious, but with the right touch, I can carve, refill, and refine the runes with minimal effort.

All I need now is the raw material.

I head just outside the Everfree, picking out a large boulder embedded in the dirt. Solid, weighty, but not so unwieldy that I can’t shape it. I focus, applying pressure with my magic, compressing the stone, pushing the material inward, removing imperfections.

Once it’s condensed enough to carve cleanly, I start forming the shape.

I keep it simple—basic proportions, sturdy design, flexible movement. Ball joints at the limbs to maximize range of motion.

At least, that’s the plan.

But somewhere along the way, I get distracted, and the process takes a turn.

I step back, wiping sweat from my brow, and—

…Oh.

Oh no.

What… what have I done?

Standing before me, fresh from the stone, is…

A woman.

Not a pony. Not some boxy, utilitarian golem.

A tall, curved, elegant human woman—made of smoothed, condensed dirt and stone.

My eye twitches.

How the hell did this happen?

She has ball-jointed limbs, perfectly segmented for fluid motion. A slim waist, perfectly proportioned to emphasize her curves. A pouty, slightly unimpressed face that somehow conveys emotion despite being rock.

The hair—a sleek, straight bob that curves inward at the ends, forming a soft widow’s peak. It falls just above her shoulders, framing her face with frustrating precision.

And the outfit.

Oh, stars above, why does she have a leotard?

It’s part of the stone, carved into her form, giving the illusion of clothing without actually being separate from her body.

I stare.

She stares back.

I groan loudly, dragging my hooves down my face.

I did not mean to do this.

How the hell did I go from "generic labor construct" to "mystical goth goddess?"

I scowl at the stone-woman, pointing an accusatory hoof at her. "You were supposed to be a worker, not a fashion statement."

She does not respond.

Because she is a pile of animated stone.

I exhale sharply. It doesn’t matter. The shape isn’t important. She just needs to function.

I grumble, moving closer and inspecting my work. The joints are well-placed. The structure is solid.

Even if she looks like some forbidden earth goddess, at least she should be useful.

Still.

I really need to make sure no one ever sees this.

I decide to place the runes on her back—out of sight, where they won’t interfere with the aesthetics of the structure. Not that I care about aesthetics. This is purely for efficiency.

I carve the runes carefully, using my magic to weaken and reshape the stone as I work. The other golem’s rune structure serves as a useful framework, though I add some runes from Runes and Their Applications: A Mage’s Guide and adjust it to simplify the commands. I translated the whole thing to my notebook before carving.

INITIAL CONDITIONS
creator_detected = false
following_creator = false
stopped = false
holding_target = false
target_detected = false
destination_set = false

creator_position = [0,0]
golem_position = [0,0]
target_position = [0,0]
destination_position = [0,0]

DETECTION RUNE
if detect(creator)
→ creator_detected = true
→ creator_position = get_position(creator)

if detect(target)
→ target_detected = true
→ target_position = get_position(target)

FOLLOW COMMAND RUNE
if command_heard("follow")
→ following_creator = true
→ stopped = false

if following_creator and not stopped
→ move_to(creator_position)

STOP COMMAND RUNE
if command_heard("stop")
→ following_creator = false
→ stopped = true

PICK-UP RUNE
if command_heard("pick up") and target_detected and not holding_target
→ move_to(target_position)
→ hold(target)
→ holding_target = true

HOLD & FOLLOW / TRANSPORT RUNE
if holding_target and following_creator
→ move_to(creator_position)

if command_heard("bring to") and target_detected
→ destination_position = get_destination()
→ destination_set = true

if holding_target and destination_set
→ move_to(destination_position)

SET DOWN RUNE
if holding_target and command_heard("set down")
→ release(target)
→ holding_target = false
→ destination_set = false

I step back, shaking out my shoulders. The runes should work—basic follow and carry commands. Theoretically, all she has to do is respond to my commands and act accordingly.

I nod to myself, satisfied, and step around to inspect the golem properly.

…And immediately regret it.

Even knowing full well what I accidentally sculpted, it's still distracting.

Her face is carved with deliberate sharpness—a soft but precise jawline, and a faintly downturned mouth that gives her an eternally unimpressed expression. The angles of her eyes are narrow, almost brooding, and her brows rest in a natural arch that adds to the effect.

And then there’s the hair.

Even though it’s stone, it has the illusion of softness—a sleek, straight bob, the ends curving inward just enough to frame her face. The widow’s peak above her brow subtly emphasizes the smooth lines of her forehead, while the bangs, parted just off-center, make the overall effect impossibly polished.

It’s ridiculous.

I did not mean to make her this sexy.

I rub my temples. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. She’s just a machine. Just a golem. Just a—

She moves.

At first, it’s subtle—a shift, a weight adjustment as the runes activate. Then, without warning, she rises off the ground.

Not in a controlled, walking movement.

No.

She drifts.

I blink.

She floats sideways. Then forward. Then up.

I scowl.

“…You were supposed to walk.”

She continues to hover, legs completely motionless.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. Great. Apparently, in my rush to refine the movement logic, I left out an actual walking function. Instead of using her limbs, she’s just following the movement path in the simplest way possible—which happens to be floating in whatever direction she’s supposed to go.

I didn't even add a fly rune.

I stare as she gently drifts in a slow arc around me, as if caught in some ethereal goth ballerina performance.

I drag a hoof down my face. “This is so much worse.”

Now not only do I have a tall, suspiciously beautiful stone woman as my golem, but she glides like some haunting spirit instead of walking like a normal construct.

I groan loudly. I need to fix this before anyone sees her.

I groan, staring at my floating dirt woman like she personally offended me.

“Okay. Why are you floating?”

She doesn’t answer—because, obviously, she can’t. She just continues to hover slightly above the ground, following the movement logic without any awareness of how ridiculous she looks.

I rub my temples. “The other golem walked. Why did you decide that floating was the optimal path?”

I replay what I remember of the golem I fought outside the Everfree. It had moved like a real creature—limbs engaging, weight shifting. It hadn’t been elegant, but it had followed proper kinematics.

So why was this one completely bypassing the walking function?

I frown, thinking it through.

Runes are all trial and error, Twilight had said. No underlying system, just what works.

Which meant…

I glance at my notebook.

I programmed a result, but I didn’t consider the process.

The other golem was built to walk. Whoever carved its runes expected it to move like a living thing. It had that intent baked into its design.

Me? I just wanted this one to move, and magic—being the frustratingly literal force it is—took the shortest path to make that happen.

I sigh. “Figures.”

Fine. Fine.

I grab my notebook, flipping to the movement logic, and start adding the missing functionality from something that seemed like gravity in the book.

MOVEMENT CORRECTION RUNE
if following_creator or moving_to_target or moving_to_destination
→ engage_leg_joints()
→ balance_weight_distribution()
→ step_toward(target_position or creator_position or destination_position)

if off_ground and not intentional_float
→ apply_gravity()

I finish the adjustments, then carefully carve the new runes into the golem’s back.

Once the last line is etched, I step back and nod. “Alright. Try again.”

She twitches, then drops unceremoniously to the ground, landing with a heavy thud.

I exhale in relief. “Good.”

Then she moves.

Her legs shift, the ball joints clicking into place, and she takes a step forward. It’s smooth, precise, almost unsettlingly natural.

I watch as she follows the logic this time, each step deliberate, posture uncannily human despite being nothing more than compressed dirt.

“…Much better.”

And yet, somehow, still too much.

She walks toward me, her stone-carved features set in that same natural pout, her sleek bob resting perfectly in place.

I step back, feeling deeply uncomfortable. “Yeah, you’re way too refined for a stone puppet.”

She stops when I say, “Stop.”

I exhale slowly.

At least that works.

I glance at my notes. The process was simple—follow, pick up, bring, set down. Nothing complicated. And yet, because of intent, the design had been… enhanced.

I shake my head.

If Twilight ever finds out I accidentally made a beautiful dirt woman instead of a generic labor golem, I will never hear the end of it.

I watch as my newly walking golem picks up rocks and moves them as instructed. At first, everything works smoothly—she follows commands, moves efficiently, and actually looks like a functional construct.

Then I have her try to pick up a boulder that is very clearly too big.

There’s a sharp crack, and her right arm snaps clean off at the elbow, the severed limb crumbling into dust upon impact with the ground.

I stare.

Then sigh.

“Hmmm.”

I flip open my notebook, already working out a solution. If the other golem I fought could regenerate, there was no reason mine couldn’t.

I start carving in the regeneration logic, adding the missing INITIAL CONDITIONS so the construct actually knows what state it should be in.

INITIAL CONDITIONS
creator_detected = false
following_creator = false
stopped = false
holding_target = false
target_detected = false
destination_set = false

creator_position = [0,0]
golem_position = [0,0]
target_position = [0,0]
destination_position = [0,0]

body_parts = struct('head', true, 'arms', true, 'legs', true, 'torso', true)
total_mass = initial_mass

REGENERATION RUNE
if any_missing(body_parts)
→ nearest_earth = find_earth_source()
→ move_to_source(nearest_earth)
→ absorb_earth()
→ restore_missing_parts(body_parts)
→ update_mass(total_mass)
→ motion_state = "repairing"

I step back. “Alright, let’s see if this works.”

Nothing happens.

I frown.

She does not move. Does not repair. Just stands there like some aesthetically pleasing pile of broken dirt.

It takes me a second to realize the problem.

“Oh, for—”

Because I hadn’t set initial_mass before her arm broke, the current mass is what the golem recognizes as “normal.”

Which means her missing arm is part of her default state.

I groan.

I hate magic.

Fine. Fine. I’ll do it manually.

I cross out the runes to 'deactivate' them. Then I pull nearby dirt toward the stump, reshaping it carefully, condensing the material into a proper arm. After a few minutes of adjusting, the limb is back to its original state. I uncross the runes.

I step back. “There. Now, let’s see if the rune actually works.”

Unfortunately, the only way to test it… is to break her arm again.

I really don’t want to, but I need to know if the rune activates on its own.

I sigh. “Alright, big girl. Try again.”

She moves forward, reaching for the same oversized boulder.

Another sharp crack.

The arm snaps again.

This time, however, there’s a reaction.

The runes glow faintly. The golem twitches, scanning for an earth source, then slowly moves toward a patch of dirt.

I watch carefully as she kneels, pressing her broken stump to the ground. The surrounding earth shifts, particles pulling toward her, reforming the arm in real time.

A few seconds later, she stands again—fully restored.

I let out a slow breath.

“…Alright. That’s actually kind of cool.”

Even if the process feels a little cursed.

At least now I don’t have to manually fix her every time she overestimates herself.

I flip open the rune book, scanning for anything that might be useful. As expected, the descriptions are wildly inconsistent—half of them sound like someone just guessed what they did based on vibes alone.

Some stand out immediately:

"The rune of the fleet-footed will grant swiftness in times of need. A traveler must trust the wind beneath them."

Translation: Probably enhances speed or agility? Maybe makes things lighter? No actual explanation of mechanics. Useless.

"To see beyond what is seen, one must carve the eye of knowing. But beware—some things should remain hidden."

Translation: Vision enhancement? Maybe some kind of detection ability? Also, what’s with the ominous warning?

"A mind unchained walks paths unknown. To grant will where none exists is to step beyond mere craft and into creation."

I pause.

That one sounds… a little too interesting.

I scan for an example.

Nothing.

I squint at the passage, rereading it.

A mind unchained? Granting will?

I frown. That sounds like a sentience rune.

Or something dangerously close to one.

I don’t know what it actually does, and I’m not about to carve some vague, untested concept into my very functional dirt golem just to see what happens.

I underline the passage in my notes, marking it for later.

For now, I focus on the practical.

A few runes seem like they could be useful:

• Weight distribution rune ("The bearer of this mark will not falter, no matter the burden upon them.") → Possibly improves balance? Could help her carry heavier loads.
• Enhanced dexterity rune ("The artisan's touch is made steady, the blade finds its mark, and the hands move as if guided by unseen grace.") → Probably improves fine motor control? Might make her less awkward with handling objects.
• Stability rune ("That which stands firm shall not be moved by wind nor quake.") → Seems like it would help with footing. Could make her sturdier when carrying things.

After marking down the ones that seem relevant, I close the book with a sigh.

Looking up at my golem—tall, silent, and still too pretty for a pile of dirt—I decide that calling her "the golem" forever is going to get annoying.

I glance at the book, then at her.

“Alright, Rachel. Let’s go home.”

She doesn’t react, obviously, but when I say, “Follow,” she moves into step behind me, walking with smooth, deliberate motions.

At least one thing went right today.

I make my way back to the H.A.R.D.I.S. as discreetly as possible, Rachel trailing silently behind me.

I don’t need anypony seeing this. Especially not Twilight.

The last thing I need is her smug face analyzing why my labor golem just happens to be a statuesque human woman.

I’m almost in the clear. The door is just ahead. I can already imagine the sweet, sweet relief of locking myself inside and pretending none of this ever happened—

“Whoa! What’s that?!”

I freeze.

Oh no.

I turn slowly, already feeling my dignity crumbling.

Sweetie Belle is standing a few feet away, wide-eyed and brimming with dangerous levels of curiosity.

I glance at Rachel, then back at Sweetie, forcing myself to act cool.

“Oh, uh. This?” I gesture vaguely at the entirely too human golem standing behind me. “This is just a… project.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes light up. “You made a golem?!”

I clear my throat. “Well. Sort of.”

She gasps dramatically. “You built one?! From scratch?!”

I quickly shake my head. “No, no, I found a golem in the Everfree and… appropriated its runes for my own design.”

Sweetie squints at me, then at Rachel. “That’s so cool! But… why does it look like that?”

I stiffen.

Here it comes.

Sweetie tilts her head, clearly trying to make sense of Rachel’s shape. “She’s kinda tall… and she has a really small waist… and those—” she gestures vaguely at Rachel’s chest “—are kinda huge. Wouldn’t that just make her all wobbly?”

I open my mouth. Then close it.

Then open it again.

I can feel my brain overheating.

Ponies don’t have the same beauty standards as humans. They don’t register human proportions as attractive.

Which means, to Sweetie Belle, Rachel’s design isn’t sexy—it’s just weird.

I scramble for an explanation. Think, Kinetic.

I clear my throat. “That’s actually a… feature.”

Sweetie blinks. “Huh?”

I nod quickly, latching onto the lie. “Yeah, see, the, uh… proportions serve a functional purpose.” I gesture vaguely at Rachel’s torso. “The, uh, chest area acts as a ballast for movement. It stabilizes her center of mass, allowing for smoother motion.”

Sweetie Belle’s face scrunches up as she processes that. “…Really?”

I nod, completely serious. “Absolutely. Very important. Engineering, you know.”

She stares at Rachel, then at me.

Then shrugs. “Huh. I guess that makes sense!”

I internally sigh in relief.

Sweetie then grins. “Oh! Can she do anything yet?”

I glance at Rachel. “She follows commands. Picks things up. Puts them down.”

Sweetie hums, eyeing Rachel like she’s mentally dissecting my work. “She’s really smooth when she moves. Was that hard to do?”

I scoff, regaining some of my composure. “Please. You’re talking to me, Sweetie. Of course it was difficult, but I figured it out.”

She giggles. “I bet Twilight’s gonna be so impressed!”

I stiffen immediately. “Twilight doesn’t need to know.”

Sweetie Belle blinks. “Huh?”

I clear my throat. “I mean, uh. Not yet. It’s still a prototype.”

Sweetie nods like this is perfectly reasonable. “Oh, okay! Well, can I see her in action sometime?”

I hesitate.

Then sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Just—not today. I really have to go. Bye.”

Sweetie frowns a bit as I rush off. “Okay!” still staring as I leave.

I exhale, turning to Rachel as I trot. “Alright, let’s go before somepony else sees you.”

She, of course, says nothing. Just silently follows me inside.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, I lean against it and groan.

That was too close.

I glance at Rachel, frowning.

…Maybe I should do something about her proportions.

Then again, that sounds like a lot of work.

I sigh.

Whatever.

I frown as Rachel suddenly stops moving.

One moment, she’s standing there, perfectly functional. The next, she’s just… off. No reaction. No motion. Completely inert.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Oh, great. Now what?”

I move closer, inspecting the runes. Nothing seems broken. No cracks in the stone. No obvious malfunctions.

Then it clicks.

She ran out of magic.

I provided the initial energy for activation, but I hadn’t built any kind of sustained power source. Unlike unicorns, constructs don’t have an inherent pool of magic—they rely on something to keep them running.

But the golem I fought near the Everfree? It had been running for who knows how long.

So how was it still active?

I glance at the large slab of stone I’d salvaged from its remains, currently sitting in my workshop.

There’s something in there. Something keeping the magic flowing.

I narrow my eyes. “Alright. Let’s see what you’re hiding.”

I shear off the runes, turning it into more of a sheet of stone. I carefully begin cutting into the rest of the stone, using my telekinesis to weaken the intergranular bonds. Bit by bit, I break the rock apart, watching closely for anything unusual.

It takes time. I work methodically, slicing through layers of compressed earth.

Then—

A glint of red.

I pause, shifting my grip, cutting away more material. Slowly, a shape emerges from the stone.

A ruby.

Deep crimson. Diamond-shaped. Embedded directly in the heart of the golem’s remains.

I carefully pull it free with my magic—

And immediately feel a pull.

I tense as the gem draws in my magic, leeching energy from my telekinesis. Not enough to drain me completely, but enough to notice.

I frown. “So this is the power source.”

It’s a conduit—something that stores magic and gradually releases it back into the runes, keeping the construct running indefinitely.

I roll the ruby in my telekinetic grip, watching the way it absorbs and holds my energy. It’s a bit like a rechargeable battery—it doesn’t generate magic. It just holds it, acting as a stabilizer.

Which means…

I glance at Rachel’s unmoving form.

I can fix this.

I scan her head, considering the best placement. If this thing is acting like a core, then it needs to be positioned somewhere central, where it can distribute magic evenly, but also move to keep from harm's way.

I nod to myself.

Right in the forehead.

I carefully carve out a small, diamond-shaped slot, ensuring the fit is perfect.

Then, with careful precision, I place the ruby inside.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then—

The runes flicker. Glow.

Rachel’s body twitches, and slowly, she reactivates.

I step back, watching as she straightens, her limbs shifting into place. The glow of the runes stabilizes, her magic now sustained by the ruby rather than my own energy.

I exhale, crossing my forelegs. “Well. That worked.”

Rachel stands silently, back to full functionality.

I smirk, nodding at the now-stabilized construct.

“Welcome back, rock lady.”

I lead Rachel up the spiraling halls of the H.A.R.D.I.S., stepping carefully as her heavy stone footsteps follow behind me. She’s running fine now, the ruby acting as a stable power source, but I don’t want her just standing around in my workshop all the time.

I glance over my shoulder. “Alright, you’re getting a room.”

Obviously, she doesn’t respond. She just follows, her smooth stone features set in that eternal pout.

Eventually, I push open the door to one of the spare bedrooms on the second floor. It’s barely furnished—just a bed, a small writing desk, and an old bookshelf covered in dust.

I guide her to the bed, using my magic to gently move her into position.

She does not cooperate.

The second I position her onto the mattress—her back against the pillows, limbs relaxed—she just stands right back up.

I scowl. “Oh, come on.”

I push her down again.

She stands back up.

I groan, dragging my hooves down my face.

Right. Fine. If she’s just going to keep doing that, I need to add a proper off switch.

I pull out my notebook and quickly jot down a simple function:

ON/OFF RUNE
if command_heard("off")
→ disable_movement()
→ disable_response()

if command_heard("on")
→ enable_movement()
→ enable_response()

I carve the runes into her back, where I’ve already placed the others, making sure they integrate properly into the existing framework.

Once finished, I step back and test it.

“Off.”

Rachel immediately stops moving, going completely still.

I wave a hoof in front of her face. Nothing.

I poke her arm. No response.

I sigh in relief.

Finally.

I levitate her onto the bed again, and this time, she stays there.

I smirk. “Much better.”

Now she’s exactly where I left her, completely inert, waiting for reactivation.

I shake my head, dusting off my hooves.

“Sheesh. You’re more work than you should be.”

I glance at her one last time before stepping out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

Now I can finally get some sleep.

I wake up to the sound of knocking.

Too early for this.

I groan, rolling over in bed. Maybe if I ignore it, they’ll go away.

More knocking. Louder this time.

I sigh. Fine.

I climb out of bed, rubbing my eyes as I make my way toward the door. My first thought? It’s Twilight.

But when I open it, I’m met with a much smaller, much angrier unicorn.

Sweetie Belle stands at my doorstep, hooves planted firmly, eyes narrowed in righteous frustration.

I blink. “Oh. It’s you.”

She scowls. “Yeah, it’s me.”

I squint. “Why do you look like you’re about to chew me out?”

“Because I am!” she huffs. “You brushed me off yesterday! We haven’t had any lessons in days!”

I sigh. “Sweetie, it’s been—”

“Days!” she cuts in.

I pause. “Oh.”

Okay, maybe I did lose track of time.

She frowns. “I told Rarity, and she said if you weren’t gonna teach me, I should just go bug you until you do.”

I scowl. “That does sound like something she’d say.”

Sweetie Belle huffs. “So? Are you gonna actually teach me today?”

I really don’t feel like doing anything right now. I still have runes to refine, Rachel to improve, and coffee to drink.

I glance at Sweetie, then at the interior of my house.

I sigh. “Fine. You can come in and look at my golem.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?!”

I shrug. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t touch anything weird.”

She trots inside excitedly, only for her enthusiasm to pause the second she really looks around.

She turns in a slow circle, eyes wide.

“…Whoa.”

I smirk. Ah. There it is.

She finally realizes.

“It’s bigger on the inside,” she breathes, staring at the seemingly endless hallways stretching beyond the entrance.

I chuckle. “Yup.”

She whirls around to face me. “How?!”

I shrug. “No clue. It’s old magic. Got left behind by the last town mage.”

She looks back at the interior, amazed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I snort. “Because you’ve never been inside before.”

She blinks. “You couldn't have just told me while you were teaching?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Nope.”

She looks offended, like I’ve personally robbed her of an experience she should have had.

I roll my eyes. “Anyway, you wanted to see the golem, right?”

She nods quickly.

I turn to the upper floor and call out:

“Follow.”

There’s a pause.

Then—

CRACK—

SLAM!

The doors to Rachel’s room are ripped off their hinges.

Sweetie Belle screams.

I flinch. “Oh, COME ON—”

Rachel bursts out of the room, stepping over the broken doors as she moves to obey the command.

Sweetie Belle scrambles backward, eyes huge. “What the heck?!”

I groan, rubbing my temple. “You weren’t supposed to break the doors, Rachel.”

Rachel, of course, does not answer. She just moves to my side, waiting for further instruction.

Sweetie Belle slowly peeks out from behind the couch, staring up at Rachel’s perfectly sculpted features.

“…She’s so cool.”

I sigh, surveying the damage. “She’s destructive.”

Sweetie Belle grins. “Yeah, but in the best way.”

I groan. I really don’t have the energy for this today.

I guide Sweetie Belle to my workshop, where my notes and rune sketches are scattered across the desk. She follows eagerly, still buzzing from Rachel’s dramatic entrance.

“Alright,” I say, flipping open my notebook, “you wanted a lesson, so pay attention.”

Sweetie’s eyes light up, and she quickly nods, her hooves on the desk as she leans in.

I gesture to the pages filled with translated runes. “These are the symbols I used to get Rachel moving. Runes function on conceptual magic—each one represents an idea more than a specific function.” I tap a few of them. “Like this one—it’s not just ‘move forward.’ It’s more like… ‘advance toward a designated point in space.’”

Sweetie Belle hums, eyes scanning the messy, scrawled translations. “That’s so cool. So instead of telling it exactly what to do, you give it a concept, and it figures out the rest?”

I smirk. “Exactly.”

She beams. “That’s way more interesting than the basic stuff I learned! I only know simple ones—like the ‘Fly’ and ‘Direction’ runes.”

I nod. Those are common beginner runes—basic enchantments for levitation and movement assistance. Functional, but nothing fancy.

I continue, pretending I know everything about the subject (even though I literally just started learning it myself). “So, the power source is embedded in her forehead—that ruby acts as a magic conduit. The runes around her back control movement, response, and repair. Basically, she’s fully autonomous, as long as she has magic to draw from.”

Sweetie listens with rapt attention, nodding along like I’m revealing the secrets of the universe.

"What are those little mini hooves?" she asks, tilting her head.

"They're hands, the little branched things are called fingers."

But then her gaze drifts back to Rachel, and her expression scrunches up.

“…Okay, but why does she have a leotard?”

I freeze.

Oh. Right. That.

I glance at Rachel, at the distinctly sculpted lines of her stone form—the sleek bob, the aesthetic curves, the sharp, brooding facial structure.

There’s no point in hiding it now. The other ponies already know I wasn’t born here.

I shrug. “Because I was human. That’s just what I like.”

Sweetie Belle blinks.

Then stares.

Then slowly, slowly, tilts her head.

“…What the hay is a human?”

I sigh, already regretting this. “This,” I gesture vaguely to Rachel, “is a female one.”

Sweetie Belle’s jaw drops.

She points a hoof at Rachel, then at me, then back at Rachel. “You used to look like that?!”

“Well, not exactly like that,” I mutter. “But, yeah. Same general structure.”

Sweetie throws her hooves in the air. “Every time I talk to you, I get new crazy lore!”

I smirk. “You’re welcome.”

She doesn’t even acknowledge it, too busy pacing in frantic little circles. “So you’re saying you weren’t a pony. You used to be a whole other thing. And nopony told me?!”

I shrug. “I just assumed you knew.”

She gapes at me. “Why would I know that?! That’s not normal information!”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not a secret, Sweetie.”

She’s still stuck in existential crisis mode, so I figure I’ll let her process it for a second.

Then—

Out of nowhere—

She stops, turns to me, and narrows her eyes.

“…Is that why you don’t see Twilight’s attempts at romance?”

I blink. “What?”

She tilts her head. “Because you’re not really a pony? Is that why you don’t get it?”

I frown. “Twilight doesn’t like me.”

Sweetie Belle snorts. “Oh, come on.”

I scowl. “What do you mean come on?”

She gives me an unimpressed look. “She likes you likes you.”

I shake my head. “No, she doesn’t.”

Sweetie smirks. “Then why did you go on a date yesterday?”

I blink. “I what?”

Sweetie Belle giggles. “You went on a date! Twilight told Rarity all about it at dinner last night! She couldn’t stop talking about it!”

I just stare at her.

“No,” I say, slow and careful, as if explaining to a particularly dumb rock. “I ran errands with her.”

Sweetie shrugs. “That’s what you thought you were doing.”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Oh, dear god.”

Sweetie Belle grins, way too pleased with my suffering. “Yup! Twilight’s already making more plans, too. Even though she’s kinda frustrated.”

I groan, dragging my hooves down my face. “Great.”

Sweetie shrugs. “She’s stubborn. She’s not giving up just because you’re slow.”

I glare at her. “I’m not slow, I just didn’t know it was happening.”

She giggles. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Whatever. Twilight’s Twilight. She overthinks everything. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Sweetie hums. “Maybe. But Rarity said she still likes you, too.”

I stiffen. “Excuse me?”

Sweetie nods. “Yeah. She said she’s just being generous and letting Twilight have first dibs.”

I stare at her. “First dibs?”

She shrugs again, completely unbothered. “Yup! But she also said if Twilight messes it up, she’s just gonna take you for herself.”

I reel.

My brain short-circuits.

“What?”

Sweetie tilts her head. “Yeah, she said, ‘It would be simply uncouth to steal him outright, but if Twilight fumbles, well…’” Sweetie waves a hoof vaguely. “Then she just kinda smiled all sneaky-like.”

I stare at her.

My brain is not equipped to deal with this.

“Rarity was first, though,” I say, slowly, as if that somehow helps make sense of this mess. “Why let Twilight go first?”

Sweetie just shrugs. “Because they’re friends?”

I blink.

I blink again.

Then it hits me.

It doesn’t matter.

Because I don’t like either of them like that.

I exhale hard, shaking my head. “You know what? Doesn’t even matter.”

Sweetie Belle giggles. “Wow, you really don’t get it.”

I scowl. “No, I get it. I just don’t care.”

She snickers. “Keep telling yourself that.”

I groan. This filly is going to end me.

Sweetie Belle, now way too emboldened by my suffering, leans in.

“So… back to the human thing. if you were human before, do you, like, miss it?”

I scowl. “Sweetie—”

“I mean, you’ve been a pony for a while, right?” she presses, her eyes gleaming with the enthusiasm of somepony who has zero self-preservation instincts. “So, like… does it feel weird? Do you still think like a human, or are you starting to think like a pony? Like, do you ever look at pony food and think, ‘Wow, I’d love to eat that now’?”

I stare at her.

She stares back.

I exhale sharply. “Sweetie Belle. Get out of my house.”

She gasps dramatically, hoof to her chest. “What?! But I have so many questions!”

I start physically pushing her toward the door. “Yeah, well, I have so many regrets about letting you in.”

She digs her hooves into the floor, still grinning. “Wait! What about hands? Do you miss hands?”

I deadpan at the ceiling. “Sweetie—”

“Oh! And—do you think you’ll ever go back to being a human? Like, what if there’s a way? Would you do it?”

I shove her through the doorway. “Goodbye, Sweetie Belle.”

She laughs as I slam the door in her face.

Through the wood, I hear her sing-song, “I’m gonna tell Rarity everything!”

I groan, pressing my forehead against the door.

That filly is too nosy for her own good.

And now I have to worry about what kind of insane gossip is going to spread from this.

I sigh.