Take your time; Stay a while

by JustThisOnce

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Sad, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 2976

Twilight Sparkle has one experience, repeatedly. It concerns her friends. She experiences it without them. This bothers her.

"Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed

With the echoes from the amplifiers ringing in your head

You smoke the day's last cigarette, remembering what she said" - Bob Seger, Turn the Page

Sometimes, all it takes is a couple sentences to trigger an introspection.

Sometimes, said introspection leads to confusion. The mind is a complex place, after all.

Oftentimes, Twilight Sparkle takes her own letter.

This is a story that was written around 2015, after Season 5. I never published it on my main account. I was younger at the time- not even out of high school. I found the word doc for this floating around in a very old folder, and decided to publish it on this sort-of throwaway. The original author's note is gone, and I definitely don't remember it. I do remember that this fic was inspired by the quoted Bob Seger song after I listened to it while reading some other fanfictions on here.

I decided to upload it now because though I'm not really confident in its raw quality, it makes me nostalgic for when I was really into the show. I'm not even sure I can still tell what my intent was with it- what the theme I was initially driving towards was, though I definitely can find one.

I hope those who read this enjoy it, or at least get something out of it. Maybe teenage me will appreciate it.

Published 2025-02-19 15:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2025-02-19 15:00:01 UTC

Loaded Words

Dear Princess Twilight,

I think you know that this letter is going to be different.

The comment came from a branch of the conversation that had been long since removed from whatever the original topic was.

It was the type of comment that circled back to a portion of the chat that occurred nearly half an hour ago and had suddenly reared its head up again, like an unfinished thought that was on the tip of someone’s tongue and then, out of nowhere, burst out days or sometimes even weeks later.

It felt odd to Twilight, for her to remember it so vividly. It wasn’t anything particularly important in the grand scheme of things, and furthermore, it came from Trixie, so Twilight’s built in mental filter of whatever nonsense the magician spouted usually removed the lesser verbal remarks that permeated the dead air. She was remarkably similar to Pinkie, in that way, how silence seemed to almost make the illusionist nervous somehow.

Twilight never could figure out why, but she was sure Starlight knew. Something privy to friends, not friends of friends. There was probably a friendship lesson to be learned there.

Maybe for later.

It slipped from Trixie’s mouth as she was raising her sloppily prepared daiquiri (Twilight was never the best home bartender), like an afterthought to the drink she was taking.

“The worst part is always after the show is done.”

A simple sentence. One independent clause, with a basic structure and extremely common terminology, 2nd grade level at worst if your school was more “rural backwater” than most.

Nonetheless, Twilight had asked her what she meant.

“Right after all the audience leaves. N-Not after… packing up… all the stuff, the props are- are still there. That’s always the worst part of m-my… great and uh… the routine.”

Trixie was drunk, that much had been clear. She’d half-stopped referring to herself in the third person, which usually happened somewhere between “light buzz” and “hard slur.” Twilight had never seen her blackout drunk, so she had no frame of reference as to how far in she was and if she should cut her off now. She decided later to err on the side of caution and just let her finish the daiquiri but not prepare her any more drinks.

That was where Twilight’s thoughts were at the time. The topic shifted, as it always did, to something else, something she couldn’t recall later. But the comment Trixie made- that rang harshly through her mind even months afterward.

It annoyed her, because she didn’t know why.

She’d contemplated it, yes, in those nights where you lay awake in bed, not quite tired enough to fall asleep and not quite awake enough to actually do anything but breathe softly underneath the sheets and let your mind wander to wherever it decided to go that night. She’d contemplated what it meant, what Trixie meant, and what it meant to her.

She’d come up short on all three once she tried to link it to the “why,” of things. That was always the toughest part; philosophy was never her strongest subject in school. Neither was psychology.

It faded from her waking mind, into her subconscious. It surfaced occasionally, as unsolved problems tended to do in her head, the curse of an academic’s psyche. But it wasn’t a pressing matter by any means. It wasn’t serious. It wasn’t important. It was just… a comment.

It did bother her, though. Just a little.

You need to make a choice. Maybe it’ll be the wrong one, and maybe you’ll be unhappy. But you need to make a choice.

The comment came as a snide remark from the Spirit of Chaos. One of a million.

It was the type of snarky statement anyone affiliated with the draconequus would be more than familiar with, and Twilight was certainly more “affiliated” with Discord than most ponies. He had taken to “backseating” her “adventures,” as he had put it, and though he absolutely adored providing insightful dialogue during and after whatever issue her and the girls had to work through, his assistance on the subject was woefully absent. Though, more often than not, when he would “help,” things tended to get a lot worse… and a lot more chaotic, so it was a bit of a Catch-22.

For such dime-a-dozen declarations, it felt strange to Twilight for her to remember it with more clarity than most of his gibes. What was stranger still was how it brought up the memory of Trixie’s drunken reflection mere moments after she’d registered what he said, as if her mind was just waiting for somepony to say the right thing at the right time so it could bring it up again.

The cognitive image of a fish waiting for a lure was what she could compare it to. A line from a poem she once read attached itself to the mental picture far too easily.

“A backwards formation of a thought. What kind of fish wants to be caught?”

Discord had just disappeared one of his “costumes” when he said it as a response to something Twilight had replied to Rarity about. She had said, as an aside to Rarity’s assertion that the trip was a “total failure,” (they had been sent to Appleloosa for that particular escapade) that there were tons of things she could write about in her journal.

Discord had craned his head around and stated, “Don’t tell me you seriously still write those silly little ‘reports’ or letters or whatever you call them now? I mean, there isn’t always a ‘friendship lesson’ or whatever it is you call it now to be had, if my experiences watching you these past couple of journeys is any indication.”

Twilight had shot back, almost on instinct, “As a matter of fact, Discord, there is. Maybe you aren’t quite as good at spotting ‘friendship lessons’ as I am.”

Discord had just rolled his eyes in response and moved on to answering some question lobbed at him by one of her friends.

Twilight was sure, more than anything, that if she asked Discord about his statement, he would reply with complete honesty that he couldn’t remember saying that, but that it did sound like something he’d say. It was just another sarcastically-sounding, inconsequential Discordism that she oftentimes disregarded or ignored outright.

But for a split second, right after she shot back at Discord, Trixie’s words flashed through her head, as clear as when she had first heard them… maybe even clearer.

Later on, she once again tried to reconcile the newly connected phases with each other, and then hopefully back to her. She searched for similarities, for shared words and themes, for tones and backgrounds of any kind.

She came up short. She shouldn’t have come up short, because she knew why she felt this way. But it was like there was a mental stop, a barrier in her mind that disallowed her from fully comprehending itself. A writer’s block for the inner brain.

It wasn’t that big of a deal. More annoying, than anything else.

All it did was bother her, just a little.

The outcome shouldn’t matter. The choice does.

She was with Pinkie Pie when it happened a third time. That was the charm that revealed everything, or at least, brought it to figurative light within herself.

The party had wound down. Everypony had gone home. Twilight and Pinkie were cleaning up, like they usually did, sometimes in silence, sometimes with a vibrant conversation.

All conversations were “vibrant,” with Pinkie. That was the only way Twilight could describe them.

This time, it was more of a muted dialogue. Polite. Calm. A rarity with Pinkie Pie, some would say, but Twilight knew better. Pinkie could be remarkably contemplative and considerate when she really needed to be. It was just that her hyperactiveness often got in the way- but that was an entirely different conversation for an entirely different time.

Twilight finished up her part and, taking a final swig of the punch that was left, made to bid goodbye to her friend. She walked to the swinging door that led to the outside of Sugarcube Corner, and like always, Pinkie went to hold the door open for her.

She stepped outside as Pinkie said, “See ya, Twilight! Thanks for all the help!”

“No problem.” was what came out at first. The next sentence was meant to be a joke, a lighthearted jab at Pinkie’s tendency to want to have parties run a little longer than they should.

“Sad no one stayed for the after-party?”

Pinkie had snorted softly. “No one ever stays for the after-party, Twilight!”

She paused. “Well, except for you, but I don’t think most ponies would consider cleanup very fun!”

The door shut as Pinkie bounced off into the building and left Twilight standing outside, staring at nothing in particular.

The night was cool. The stars were out. Luna’s moon shone softly on the grass, casting the faintest of light amidst the evening darkness.

She went home. Got to her castle, checked in on Spike, and prepared for bed.

She didn’t fall asleep. She didn’t get up, either.

Except for her.

That… bothered her.

That bothered her a lot.

You could get help. You could do something about this. All of these thoughts. Feelings.

You could let them ruin you. You could let them ruin everypony else.

But first, you need to make a choice.

There was nothing to write about.

There was nothing to talk about.

Nothing had happened.

Nobody had changed.

Everything was stagnant. Safe.

Twilight had nothing to say.

Staring at the parchment in front of her, she didn’t notice she was crying until the spots of her tears started to dot the blank sheet as she sat hunched over it, the light from the lantern beside her casting a soft yellow glow that reminded her of how the Sugarcube Corner looked at night, when the party was over and Twilight was still there-

The page was wet.

Twilight kept staring at it till her eyesight started to smear.

Her quill lay dormant in its inkwell.

She couldn’t write if she tried.

Twilight’s gaze didn’t leave its spot until the sun came up the next morning.

If you knew the answers, you wouldn’t need this letter.

If there are any answers to this at all, then you need to find them.

Did her friends think about their adventures as often as she did?

They remembered them, of course. Most of their exploits were hard to forget. They had many conversations, at length, around the table about something to do with a recent or past one.

But did they think about them, like Twilight did? Did Applejack ever buck a tree and recall the time Rainbow Dash had accidentally seeded the wrong crop and bred an entire orchard’s worth of orange-apple hybrids to then sell them under Applejack’s name for profit?

Did Rarity ever thread a needle and remember the time when the Cutie Mark Crusaders had made a love poison that nearly caused Cheerilee and Big Mac to fall completely in love?

Did Fluttershy ever pour birdseed into a bowl and suddenly get distracted by the time where Pinkie Pie had baked her custom treats for her animal friends, who then got addicted to their taste and wouldn’t eat anything else she fed them?

Did Starlight ever wash her hooves and think back to the time when she had nearly torn apart the entire universe as Twilight knew it out of spite and anguish?

Twilight was sure they did. They had to. How couldn’t they?

She did, after all.

“You are who you choose to be.” Didn’t you read that, once?

You don’t have to decide who that is yet. But you do need to make a choice first.

Twilight hated being a princess.

She hated the meetings. She hated the decisions. She hated the ponies and creatures she met and talked to.

She hated the moments of ire she felt, almost at random, directed to nopony and everypony in the room.

She hated how boring it was.

Make decisions-

Keep talking.

Forge alliances-

Keep talking.

Navigate political intrigue? Surely that would be-

Keep talking.

It was like a book you couldn’t enjoy, because at least with a book, Twilight could turn the page. She could choose to enter and exit the reality it forged for her at will. She was in control of the adventure.

As a princess, she wasn’t in control, there was no adventure, and she hated-

What was it, again?

No time to think about it. No time to think at all.

No, time to keep talking.

Speak about subjects you don’t care about to subjects you aren’t friends with.

Friends. That was important.

For a Princess of Friendship, Equestria sure seemed adamant on removing the latter part from her title.

Or maybe that was her fault?

What was uncertain was how much of the problem constituted of her princess duties.

What was certain was that she was the problem.

You’ll be left. That is inevitable. Inarguable.

What will you do, then?

For your sake, you need to find out now.

When the show is over, the magician prepares for the next one.

When the party is over, the planner plans for the next one.

When the adventure is done, Twilight writes a letter.

Was it wrong to want things to stay the same forever?

Was it selfish for her to anticipate the next adventure?

It was.

Why didn’t she feel bad, then?

I can’t tell if you’re scared, or angry, or sad.

I don’t think you can, either.

Applejack managed and worked on a farm.

Rainbow Dash practiced flying and operations.

Rarity made clothing and owned a chain of boutiques.

Fluttershy helped house, feed and take care of animals.

Pinkie Pie threw parties and worked at a bakery.

Twilight Sparkle went on adventures with her friends.

Twilight Sparkle studied magic, caused problems, and then solved the issues with her friends.

Twilight Sparkle wrote about friendship.

Twilight Sparkle wrote letters to no one.

But if you’re reading this, then you know I’m right.

You aren’t going to get anywhere by standing still, unless you wait for somepony to come for you.

And they’ve all left.

The quill hovered in the air, inches from the parchment.

The tip dripped its blank ink onto the surface of the page, once, twice, then stopped.

Maybe she should stop?

Find something else.

No.

The burns from the fire were fresh. The props were still out. The after-party was raging on, and Twilight Sparkle was writing a letter.

She could see the panic in the Pegasus’ eyes as they desperately tried to stop it before it destroyed the gallery of hedge art that had taken weeks to prepare. She could hear Rainbow Dash shouting orders above her, she could almost see the glow of Starlight’s magic as she prepared a counterspell-

The quill touched the page.

Twilight Sparkle wrote.

She wrote until the sun peeked through the window and the ink ran dry.

She wrote a friendship letter about the dangers of ignoring your friend’s advice at the cost of your own, and as a comedic bonus, the speculative value of shrubbery once it is burnt to ash.

She couldn’t stop if she tried.

So here it is. My ultimatum.

Stop doing this, or don’t. No half measures.

Once upon a time, Twilight had tried to manipulate it.

Once upon a time, Starlight had succeeded.

Once upon a time, both agreed to never mess with it again.

But in moments of weakness, Twilight pondered if it would be right for her to use such magic for her own happiness.

A loop, maybe? Or just freewheeling in a week, jumping around to see the consequences of a choice here, a non-choice there. Maybe a month, for maximum scientific efficiency. Maybe two?

Maybe she could slow everything down? Make the moments into instances, make the minutes into seconds. But that wasn’t right- that was backwards. Or forwards. Both at once?

The logistics weren’t the focus. The reasoning was.

She wanted the days to last forever.

That wasn’t right.

She wanted to capture time in a bottle.

That wasn’t right either.

She wanted her friends to live forever.

Wrong again.

Twilight Sparkle just wanted to go on another adventure.

That sounded correct.

Twilight Sparkle needed to write a letter.

That felt right.

No more letters. No more retrospectives.

Or the opposite.

Can’t you just make that choice already?

Can’t you just end this back and forth in your head?

Why is this so important to you? Why does it make you feel so conflicted?

She didn’t know.

She couldn’t make the choice.

She knew.

She wouldn’t make the choice.

She was so tired.

Twilight Sparkle was annoyed with herself.

Caring isn’t the issue here.

Your response is.

All of this needs to stop.

That’s all I have to say.

Maybe all we have to say.

Please, end this soon.

From,

Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship.

Twilight Sparkle placed the letter down.

It was bright outside. The lantern on her desk was off.

The sun reflected off of the crystalline walls that surrounded her, basking the room in a glow of neutral light as all the colors seemed to equalize out.

She sighed.

Twilight Sparkle thought of Trixie on stage, watching the last of the audience exit the performance.

She would make the choice today. She owed herself that much.

She didn’t want to be bothered by this. Not anymore. It was time to move on to a new problem.

Anything was better than being alone after the story was over.