The Prodigal Pies Return

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Harnessed to a small but sturdy traveling cart, Octavia Pie and Vinyl Scratch trotted down the highway to the Pie Rock Plantation. The gray earth pony and the white unicorn moved their legs in perfect one-two time with each other, despite both of them being distracted. Octavia quietly sang snippets of an aria she had been working on, while Vinyl, with her trademark lavender-tinted goggles hanging around her neck currently, marveled at the scenery, or lack thereof. She saw maybe five trees, and that was being generous. Some of them may have been bushes. It was hard to tell with most of the greenery missing from them. The rest of the landscape was hills, but the sharp, barren kind, not the lush, rolling kind.

“Hey sweet,” she said, “how come there's nothing here?”

“What are you talking about?” Octavia asked. “We're right in the middle of the the Birch family's plantation.”

“It's totally desolate,” Vinyl retorted. “This is getting really depressing.”

“It is not desolate! Look, there's a tree right over there.”

“Yeah, and half of its leaves are gone because everything's so shitty.”

“Mia dolce,” Octavia said sweetly and patiently, “they're growing on this field currently, and the rocks are using the nutrients in the soil. The new season is starting, so they'll probably start rotating the rocks to a new field soon. Then they'll fertilize this one and let all the plants grow back.”

“I don't know,” said Vinyl, shaking her head. “Seems like a lot of trouble just for some gems. Aren't plants more important?”

“Listen, you're welcome to debate that with my father or sister, if you'd like. They have much more to say on the subject of economics than I do.”

“No,” Vinyl responded quickly, “that's okay. Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” Octavia said with an affectionate smile. “I like that you care about things like that. It's not that I don't care at all, I simply don't have much of a stake in the matter anymore.”

“That's cool.” The unicorn was silent for a moment, chewing on her lip. “Speaking of cool, do you really think your family is going to like me?”

“Why wouldn't they?” Octavia frowned, searching Vinyl's face, which was framed this month by a short, spiky cut of mane alternating between dark and light streaks of green dye. “They're not bigots about "fillyfooling", if that's what you're worried about. I know I haven't been back there in so long, and certainly not with another pony, but they're aware I've been seeing you for some time...”

“That isn't what I meant,” Vinyl said, scrutinizing the road underneath them. “I've only had to deal with that once before, and I'm totally over it. What I'm talking about is that I'm kind of... you know. Edgy.”

“'Edgy'?” Octavia couldn't help giggling a little. “I know your music is pretty avaunt-garde, but I think they'll manage to see past that. Need I remind you that we're talking about a family that hasn't disowned Pinkamena?”

“You know what I meant.” Vinyl's tail started flicking back and forth. “I'm just not as... traditional as they might like.”

“Give them a chance, and they'll give you a chance. No matter what, I love you, and that's going to have to be enough for them.”

“Hey, it's all good. I'll be alright. But thanks.”

The two paused in their walk to nuzzle each other's necks, then they continued on much as before. This time though, instead of focusing on her surroundings, Vinyl focused on the progress her lovely black-maned composer was making with her song, and even offered a couple suggestions for lyrics and notes. Alighting the bare branches of a nearby tree, a tiny, sunny-bellied robin tweeted the notes back at the pair as they passed.

Much like the rest of the homestead, the family dining room was quite different from the way Octavia remembered it as a filly. Most notably, there was a carpet now. It was patternless and featureless, just a thick brown rug really, but it was very, very comfortable. Not having to sit on the creaky, splinter-ridden wooden floor made taking note of all the other changes much more pleasant. The family had apparently not sprung for an updated table—this one required balances to stay level, and two of its legs were actually scavenged from even older furniture—but the silver plates and eating utensils were new. There were actual decorations now as well. At each corner, and in a few other rooms in the house, there were small, manicured ferns and shrubs planted in muted vases. Vinyl, seated next to her, was practically mesmerized by them. They were the most flora she had seen in days.

Octavia, meanwhile, was admiring the painting that had been put up on the wall. She recognized the signature immediately from a small but noteworthy collection of letters she had received over the years—Blinkie Pie.

“This is your work, Blinkadette?” she asked, smiling across the table at her sister, who sat by herself, with mom and dad at opposite ends.

“It is.” Blinkie turned to look at the piece. It was a watercolor she had spent months on, depicting a moonrise cresting over a range of low, rocky hills. The dirt, clay, and stone paint fused and swirled with the purity of the full moon's light, making it difficult to tell where the glow truly began. The more one looked at it, the more difficult it became to discern that it was even a moonrise over hills at all, and not a formation of irregular shapes bound together by a soft, white luminescence. “I took up painting a few years ago. It's very relaxing. And such a fun challenge too, trying to use a brush with your teeth. Especially for those really delicate strokes that truly make a piece shine.”

“I quite like it,” Octavia remarked as she bit into her hay-and-lettuce sandwich. “Have you considered selling it? I have several friends who would love to have something like that in their drawing rooms. It could generate some vigorous philosophical debate.”

“No,” the younger sister said flatly. “These are for me and my family.” She directed a significant glance at Vinyl, but the unicorn was the only pony at the table who didn't notice. “They wouldn't go for that much anyway. I know how business works.”

“Don't be so modest, dear,” their father, Clyde Pie, spoke up after finishing his mug of cider. He replaced his customary bit of straw too chew on. “You've got a great head for business, it's true. That's why you got your promotion to help with the finances. But you don't know how those nobleponies up in Canterlot work. They've got too much time and too much money if you ask me. I remember one time--”

“I know we all have a lot of catching up to do,” Rose, his wife, interrupted as she sensed an oncoming rant, “but I think the most important bit is the young lady who's come home with our daughter. Did you say you were from Canterlot, Miss Scratch?”

“Huh?” The DJ in question, her horn shining faintly, levitated her mug away from her mouth. She nearly wiped the foam away with her hoof, but saw one of the Pies' fancy embroidered napkins at the last second. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I'm not a noblepony though. I mean, I've done a few formal events, but I'm not rich or landed. I have a bit of money, but--”

“'A few events'?” Octavia said as she playfully nudged her partner. “You were the artist at Princess Cadence's wedding reception!”

Clyde leaned closer and Rose adjusted her large spectacles, while Blinkie withdrew, letting the part in her light, peppery mane obscure half of her face in shadow.

“I am pretty proud of that, yeah,” Vinyl said, avoiding eye contact by feigning great interest in what item of food she was going to eat next. “It was mostly luck though. Happened to know Pinkie Pie through Octie--Octavia, happened to know Rarity through Pinkie, and they happened to know Twilight Sparkle. So really, it's all thanks to Octavia. Meeting her was luckier than playing at any wedding. Maybe the luckiest thing that's ever happened to me.”

Octavia smiled in the grimacing way only one who's trying not to cry can smile, her parents nodded at each other, and Blinkie Pie withdrew further, frowning in nearly equal proportion to all the smiling passing around.

“So can I ask a question?” Vinyl inquired with a sheepish look at everypony else around the dinner table. Blinkadette's glare nearly stopped her, but the encouraging words and expressions from the rest of the family won out. “What kinds of music are you guys—good ponies--in to?”

Clyde Pie's normally-grim visage twisted into an out-of-practice smile. “I take a particular shine to classical music. It's a shame most of the good work is produced in Canterlot these days, and not just because it keeps Octavia so busy. Did you know that's why I named her that?” Vinyl shook her head, and Octavia kept her eye-rolling subtle. He went on. “Yep. Beautiful name to go with a beautiful child.”

“Clyde, darling,” said Rose, watching with repressed amusement as Octavia blushed furiously and Vinyl Scratch agreed with his assessment whole-heartedly. “If you wanted to embarrass our daughter, you should have just brought out some foal pictures.”

“You know, that might be a good idea after dinner...”

“Hey,” Blinkadette said from behind her iron curtain of hair. “I've got a question too.” Everypony turned to stare at her. “Mom, just this morning, were you not giving me grief about not having found a special somepony yet?”

“Giving you grief?” Rose Pie answered with a raised eyebrow. “I was just asking, Blinkadette.”

“And dad, were you not just yesterday loudly wishing you had little grandfoals running under hoof?”

“'Loudly'? I don't even--”

“Well you were,” Blinkie said, putting her fore-hooves on the table with force just shy of a slam, “just like you have been for almost a year. Now here you are fawning over Octavia and this weird-looking unicorn like they're the best thing ever. Have you considered that maybe I'm not ready for a relationship, unlike my perfect older sister? How come you never say anything to Pinkie about it? I'm sure we all know she's not ready for a relationship, but still. And in case you didn't notice, Octavia's friend here is a mare, so barring any freaky unicorn magic, they're not going to have any little foals for you!”

While the rest of her family was stunned, Blinkie turned her scowl toward Vinyl. “Well?”

“Well what?” she whispered, scooting closer to Octavia, who was putting a foreleg around her shoulders.

“Do you have any freaky unicorn magic to let one of you start popping out babies?”

“Um...”

“Blinkadette Rosalyn Pie,” came dad's softly thunderous voice from the end of the table. “Go to your room.”

After a very long second of staring and panting, Blinkie grabbed the rest of her sandwich in her mouth and ran upstairs. The sound of a door slamming followed, right in the middle of Clyde's warning not to slam the door.

“Miss Scratch,” he said, turning to look at her stricken face. “You're still welcome to stay under our roof, but I understand if you don't want to after that. It's up to you.”

“It's no big deal,” she said with a weak half-grin. “I really appreciate the hospitality. Beds beat fields any day.”

“It is not 'no big deal', mia dolce,” Octavia finally said as she squeezed her sweet close. She looked at her parents. “Blinkadette was completely out of line. What the hay has gotten into her?”

“Maybe the merger,” Rose said as she rubbed some non-existent dirt off of her glasses. “We just acquired the Peach plantation, so she's been under a lot of pressure trying to organize their books. Plus we've got the big rock move coming up, which is going to be very stressful, because the size of our fields has doubled since you were fillies. And you know her birthday is next week, right?”

“Yes, that's half the reason I came!” Octavia exclaimed. “Those are terrible excuses, mom. She hasn't been like this in her letters.”

“Maybe not, but it has been years since your last visit. Why don't you talk to her?”

“After that? No. I'm going to bed. Vinyl, do you want to sleep, or would you rather stay up for a while with my parents? They're not going to blow up at you like my sister did, I promise.”

“I think I'll go to bed too,” said Vinyl. “Um, if that's okay, of course...”

“Of course,” Rose replied. “Just remember, we wake up early around here, so we might be making a lot of noise when you're used to sleeping in.”

“No, Octavia is still an early riser, and I make a lot of noise in the mornings too, so...” She was about to grin, but stopped herself just in time to turn it into an awkward cough and a mumble about being exhausted from the trip instead. “Thanks for dinner! Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Pie.”

“Goodnight,” the parents said tenderly as Vinyl followed Octavia to her old room upstairs.

“So what did I do wrong?” Vinyl asked as she pulled the fabulously-warm hoof-stitched quilt the couple was lying under closer.

“Vinyl,” Octavia said, “you were wonderful. My parents loved you. Couldn't you tell?”

“Was it my hair? I can dye it something more normal. I knew I should have taken out my tinted contacts too. My aura not being the same color as my eyes must have freaked her right out.”

“Please stop,” Octavia softly whispered as she slowly brushed her nose through Vinyl's leafy, minty mane. “Don't change anything about yourself just because of my sister.” She closed her eyes and drew her mouth toward Vinyl's.

“Wait wait wait,” Vinyl said, pulling back right before their lips met. “I forgot to brush my teeth.”

“Are you serious?” Octavia groaned with a dumbfounded expression. “You know I don't care about that.”

“I do. Sorry. I'll be right back!”

Vinyl grabbed her supplies in an azure nimbus of magic, then hurried into the bathroom down the hall.

“Smooth...” she said to herself. While she used her telekinesis to move the brush along her teeth, she checked up on the rest of her appearance in the cracked piece of glass that served as the upstairs bathroom's mirror. The gel in her mane had long since lost its potency, so now her locks hung from her head like a ball of moss. Her pupils were no longer red now that her contacts were out, but it seemed like their color had seeped out to the whites of her eyes, which were bloodshot from a long day—and from a fit of tears she had tried desperately to hide from Octavia. Thankfully, her sweet hadn't said anything if she did notice. “At least my teeth look good now.”

Vinyl Scratch's eye caught something weird in the mirror's image. It was a painting. This one showed, in a dark mix of oils, a cloudy midnight sky in which it was a struggle even for starlight to be seen. Nearly half of the canvas was covered up by the jagged crack in the mirror, however, so Vinyl turned around to get a better look. She started. Seemingly traced along the exact edges where the fissure in the glass would be, a crimson lightning bolt split the darkness in the actual, physical image. The bolt was so vivid that it seemed as if the artist had taken the exact opposite of each color in the palette used for the rest of the painting in order to make it. Looking back at the mirror, the flash of electricity was no longer visible at all from this angle. Vinyl could just barely make out the hints of furious red light behind the crack by craning her neck to the sides.

“Whoa,” she said. “Cool.” She leaned down to spit out her toothpaste.

“Do you like it?” a voice asked in a volume barely above a whisper.

Vinyl's head bolted up, and when she saw the reflection of Octavia's sister standing in the shadow of the hallway, so did the rest of her body. “Yikes!” she yelped. “Uh, hey Blinkster! I mean, Blinkie. I mean, Blinkadette...”

“Just Blinkie is fine,” the middle Pie child said somberly. She didn't move an inch, even after some nervous laughter from Vinyl. “So do you like it, or not?”

“Yeah, I do...” Vinyl glanced around. This room didn't even have windows. It was just a wash basin and a toilet that looked like it had been recently connected to a sewer or septic tank, lit by a small, dim lamp that hung from the ceiling. No escape routes.

“It's okay if you don't. I won't get mad.” Vinyl was about to animatedly reassure the mare to avert any potential wrath, but Blinkie continued speaking in a calm monotone. “And I'm sorry I did before.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For saying all those nasty things about you,” Blinkie said, lowering her head. “I don't even know you, and it would have been incredibly rude even if I did. I'm sorry.”

“Oh,” said Vinyl. “Don't sweat it. It sounded like you have a lot going on.”

“I do and I don't.” Blinkie Pie glanced back and forth between the two halves of her work of art in the room. “I'll leave it at that.

“Look, I do love my sister, and her discerning eye is one of the things I appreciate most about her. If she sees something in you, then there must be something in you, even if I don't see it yet, and wow. This apology just went off the rails in a big way. Forget I said that. Again, I'm sorry for everything. I don't think you're a freak.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Vinyl responded with a semi-forced smile.

“Okay.” Blinkie turned to walk back to her room, which allowed Vinyl to finally get a good look at her cutie mark. It was... a lumpy rock? She couldn't say for sure. It just looked like a gray blob had been smeared on her mauve flank. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Vinyl called out after the pony who was retreating into the shadows. “Hey, wait. I really do like your paintings, by the way. They're sweet.”

“Don't push it.” Blinkadette turned back, showing the barest hint of a smile, but it was a genuine one. “You're lucky you got an apology out of me.” Then she was gone.

When Vinyl crept back into the blissfully-soft bed with Octavia, her mare glared at her. In a loving way, at least.

“If you're uncomfortable being intimate with me here,” she said, “you should simply say so.”

“No, I really did need to brush my teeth,” Vinyl explained. “I want you to have the best I can offer, and that includes even the little things, like kisses.”

Octavia's glower sprang into a grin and a twinkling laugh. “I love you so much.” Wrapping all four of her legs around Vinyl's body to playfully prevent the unicorn's escape, she leaned in to attempt to plant another kiss on her love's lips. Said love pulled away again at the last second.

“The best I can offer...” she remarked thoughtfully, looking off into the middle distance at nothing. “Sweet, I have an idea!”

Octavia Pie buried her face into a pillow so she could let out a louder frustrated moan than the one before.

“It's going to take me all night, but I know exactly what I can do to make your sister happy. I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay? I've been practicing the spark spell for you.” She winked.

“But you've been pulling our luggage for half the day,” Octavia objected. “Why don't you just relax here with me?” She looked earnestly at her partner, whose musical heart missed a rare beat at the sight of those glistening, lilac eyes.

“I'm really tempted.” Vinyl gulped, then shook her head, dislodged herself from Octavia's grip, and crawled out from under the covers. “But no. I'll be back in the morning. You've been pulling just as much as I have, so why don't you take your own advice and rest, okay?” She laid a tender kiss on Octavia's forehead.

“Just don't do anything too crazy,” the earth pony said. “Please.”

Vinyl grinned and trotted out of the bedroom.

Octavia awoke with the rooster's call. She was momentarily disappointed that she was still alone in bed, but then she caught the smell of pancakes being prepared downstairs. With a child-like giggle, she bounded out of bed and hurried toward the aroma. With an exuberance that only the sudden recollection of simple but cherished memories can provide, she perkily greeted her mom, who was deftly working the skillet, and her dad, who was reading The Farmer's Almanac.

“Where's Miss Scratch?” her dad asked, glancing up from the list of scheduled “atmospheric events."

“You haven't seen her?”

“No, we just woke up,” Rose Pie said, “and we wanted to make sure you got something good when you got down here. We haven't seen your sister either, though...”

“That's probably for the best,” said Octavia. “Listen, about Blinkadette...”

A loud thud from the direction of the front door stopped her in mid-sentence. She and her dad rushed there, while her mom tried to keep from fumbling with the cooking.

Sprawled up the stone steps that led to the Pies' newly-renovated porch was Vinyl Scratch. The unicorn DJ was breathing hard and sweating profusely, and her horn was scorched nearly black from overuse. Octavia rushed to her side and roused her. Vinyl slowly opened her eyes with tired blinks, then beamed with a dazzling smile at the face that greeted her. “I'm okay.”

“What happened? Oh gosh, you're covered in dirt and dust. Are you injured? Dad, help me carry her inside!”

Clyde's stick of chewing-hay had fallen out of his mouth, and he did not even appear to hear his daughter's words. Octavia followed his gaze and saw why: nearly every single one of their rocks was gone.

“Dad?” Blinkie yawned and squinted as she stepped out into the light of dawn to join them. “What was that noise? It--” Her voice caught in her throat when she saw Vinyl, then her entire body froze when she saw the field. “Where are all the rocks!?”

“I rotated them for you,” Vinyl said proudly. “I'm surprised you don't have any unicorns around. Seems like they'd be really helpful for this sort of work. I have to admit, it's a bit much for just one, but I'm sure you could find plenty that aren't too snooty to get down in the dirt. I missed some of the crop, but... uh, why is everypony looking at me like that?”

“You.” Blinkadette's voice dripped with venom. “Get. Out.”

“Blinkie, I don't--” Octavia began.

“No! I want her out of here now!”

“Dad?” Octavia asked quietly, holding her companion's hooves in hers reassuringly. It was doing little good, however. Vinyl was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“I--” he said with a broken voice. “I think it's best that your special friend leaves, at least for the time being.”

“I'm so confused,” Vinyl gasped, trying to get to her hooves with Octavia's help. “What did I do?”

Clyde and Blinkie were silent, so she turned to Octavia.

“Unicorn magic destroys gem crops,” she said very slowly, in order to keep her voice steady and her eyes dry. “You just turned this season's whole harvest back into worthless rocks. Here, I'll find some blankets we can lie on out here. It'll be okay.”

Supporting her mute and unresisting mate with her shoulders, Octavia led the way to their cart, where some supplies remained unpacked, and where they could be alone.

“At least Pinkamena will be here in a couple days,” Clyde Pie remarked, trying to banish the resigned sadness from his voice. “Seeing her will cheer us up.”

“Pinkie?” Unseen by her father, Blinkie's pupils shrank with pure terror. “Oh no...”

Chapter 2

“Pinkie Pie, you know this animal needs water, right?” Fluttershy asked her friend, who was starting some early-morning construction in front of one of Ponyville's nearby lakes, preparing a hulking transport cage lined with big, fluffy pillows. The entire site was covered by a camouflage sheet, the kind used to hide activity on the ground from fliers.

“Hmm.” Pinkie reflected, scratching her chin with her hoof. “How much water, and how often?”

“Um, a lot. And constantly.”

“Well, let's see here...”

Pinkie unfolded her blueprints and spread them out on the grass. She took a pencil in her teeth and began to erase and scribble with it. Fluttershy peeked over her shoulder and noticed that they appeared to be plans for a carriage or cart of some kind. They were actually fairly intricate designs as well, with perfectly straight lines, smooth, measured angles, and neat annotations. Fluttershy's doubts that Pinkie had made them herself vanished when the adjustments were done in the same manner. Wait, Fluttershy thought. How is she even going to have space for that? Before she could attempt to work out the practicality of it, Pinkie closed the plans up.

"There!" she said triumphantly—and awkwardly, before she spat out the pencil. "That won't be a problem at all. Thanks Fluttershy!"

"How far are you taking him?" Fluttershy inquired, taking half a step forward and leaning her head closer. "How long are you going to be gone? Will he have plenty to eat there? He needs a lot of food..."

"Don't you worry your candy-flavored little head about it, little sis," said Pinkie, oblivious to Fluttershy's annoyed twitch. "I'll have him back safe and sound. I'm just borrowing him for Blinkie's New Tens Digit party. You know how special those have to be."

"You're taking him to a rock farm?" the pegasus asked with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"I would never ask if it wasn't important." Pinkie Pie put on a pair of diving goggles with a dramatic snap from the bands. She adjusted the length of her snorkel, then marched to the water with her jaw set firmly. Her neon green flipper shoes sent water splashing everywhere.

Pinkie Pie decided to tackle the other time-sensitive item on her pre-birthday checklist next. She switched the speed of her walk toward the Carousel Boutique several times, trying to decide how much of a rush she should appear to be in. Of course, this did little more than arouse suspicious she was trying to avoid. She drew even more odd looks than usual from the strollers taking advantage of the chance to breathe the morning air, the bustling ponies late for work, the gaggles of fillies off of school, and the crotchety elders playing the kinds of games that old ponies love to play. She was already loaded down with some of the necessary supplies she had acquired from her best-but-not-as-best friends, but the fact that they were concealed in bulging bags at her sides caused a buzz of discussion. Many Ponyville citizens had undergone the singular experience of attending one of Pinkie's New Tens Digit birthday bashes, but they had never seen her throw one for a family member. Perhaps that explained the extra lengths she was going to to ensure it remained a surprise, even though none of them would be there.

Pinkie Pie knocked on the Boutique's door, and Rarity's bespectacled face peaked out from behind it.

"There you are!" Rarity exclaimed, opening the door wide for her friend to pass. "I was expecting you. Please come in. Can I get you anything?"

"There are a whole lot of things you can get me," Pinkie said as she darted around the shop, closing all of the windows and pulling the shades.

"Pinkie, dear," said Rarity as she was cast into darkness, "you know my store is going to open in about ten minutes, right? What are you doing?"

"There are spies everywhere in this town. I need to check the room for bugs."

Rarity looked on speechlessly as Pinkie Pie turned over her vases, pulled up her rugs, peeked under her fabrics, and generally turned the place upside-down. Patience, Rarity, she said to herself. Just make it through today and she'll be gone for a week.

"I found one!" the earth pony shouted.

"What? Why would anypony want to bug my boutique?"

"Let's find out." Pinkie lifted the ladybug she had discovered up to eye level and glared at it. "Spill the beans, spy."

The two stared intensely at each other, the insect moving its mouth wordlessly. Rarity sighed and began restoring order to her place of business. "Pinkie Pie, could we please—"

"Hold on." Shortly, the contest was over, and the ladybug flew away and out of a window Rarity had snuck open. "I knew it! Wow, she was good. We should be okay now though." Pinkie pulled out several sheets of paper from her bag and presented them to the unicorn. "Can you make six and a half copies of this costume?"

Rarity squinted at the designs. "You want me to make half of a costume?”

"No, that would be ridiculous. I want you to make six and a half. Would that be too much trouble?"

"I must confess that I have little idea how this would work," Rarity said as her horn illuminated to pull the sketches closer.

"I know it's super ambitious," admitted Pinkie Pie, "but that's why I came to you. You're the best designer, like, ever, so I thought 'Rarity!' right away."

"I'm uncertain if I should be teaching you manipulation, or learning it from you," Rarity said with a slight twitter. "Nevertheless, your heart is in the right place, so I will happily do this for you, somehow. You said it was for your sister's twentieth birthday party, correct? This will be my gift to her."

"Oh, you don't have to do that. I'm not bringing gifts from anypony else."

"Do any of them have a business to expand?" Before Pinkie Pie could think too hard about the question, Rarity kept talking. "I can see it now. Hundreds of dour little rock farmers working all day and night in the dirt, not a bright or charming thing for all the eye to see. But suddenly, what's this? Their faces light up for the first time in years when packages from the Carousel Boutique start arriving at their quaint little homesteads! Their very own uniforms, at my bulk discount rates, no less! Won't that be delightful?"

Pinkie was gone. In her place, there was a note:

Hey Rarity, this is Pinkie Pie. I just wanted to say thank you so much. I would have said so right away, but you were talking a lot and starting to daydream. You were obviously enjoying it, so I decided I would leave you to it and go take care of some other important stuff. You really are the best!

-Pinkie Pie

Contrary to her expectations, Rarity found herself smiling with amusement rather than relief. For the most part.

The frown that crossed Pinkie Pie's face upon bidding a week-long farewell to all of her friends in Ponyville lasted for two and three-quarters of a second. But she soon lost count of the amount of seconds she spent grinning about the massive wagon she was pulling and how happy it was going to make her family. Scrawled across the bulging, strained tarp which enveloped the entirety of its contents were the words "Blinkie Pie's Birthday Carty". She giggled every time she thought of the name.

Even though the going was tough and slow, she was an earth pony, darnit, so she pulled it, and she made up some songs to sing along the way too. Many birds were drawn by the sound, but they were completely unable to follow either the melody or the lyrics. They passed confused looks among each other, but Pinkie's mood was infectious. They each began to sing their own songs, which made the pony's grin enormous. No more frowns would be had today!

Propelled by her strength, her spirit, and the power of whatever-it-is-Pinkie-Pie-does, she and her cart reached the Pie Family Rock Plantation in record time, considering the massive load she was carrying. In a little over two days, with occasional rests in the fields, she came around a bend in the road and smelled her home once again.

Pinkie had a hard time explaining the effect even to herself, but there was something particular about the earth here. No place in the world smelled quite like it. No matter how drab the landscape, no matter how boring the memory, the stony scent always remained, and with it came a sense of comfort she had otherwise only ever felt when she was with Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rarity.

Every year she came back, it was a little weird trying to associate the rocky aroma filling her nostrils with the brown and gray dreariness and drudgery that was most of her life as a filly. The weirdness reduced the size of her grin somewhat, but it was still at a healthy proportion when Octavia and Vinyl Scratch, camped out on blankets around their cart, caught sight of her. Pinkie's older sister rushed out to meet her immediately. Vinyl followed close behind, though less in a happy trot and in more of a downcast walk.

"Hi girls!" Pinkie shouted, detaching herself from her hefty burden and bouncing toward them. "The BPBC is ready!"

"Hello, Pinkamena," Octavia said as she wrangled her hopping sister into a hug.

"Hey, Pinkster," Vinyl said with a small, wan smile.

"Are you the welcoming committee?" Pinkie asked, craning her head around. "Where's everypony else?"

"Oh," said Octavia, "they're getting things ready inside. Only two days left, you know. We're, uh, taking a break. So what's that?" She waved a hoof at Pinkie's wagon.

"Blinkie Pie's Birthday Carty!" A burst of confetti exploded out of the side of the cart as Pinkie gestured grandly toward it.

"What's in it?" Octavia asked, wiping a streamer out of her mane.

"It has to be a surprise for everypony for it to work," Pinkie replied. "Even you, big sis."

"We weren't taking a break," Vinyl interrupted.

"Oh, Dolce, don't. Not now."

Vinyl brushed Octavia's outstretched hoof aside. "I made a huge mess of things, Pinkie. I'm not sure this party is going to go down like we'd hoped."

Seeing Vinyl's mouth turn downward, Pinkie Pie did a hoof stand so that she was standing upside-down, correcting the unicorn's expression. It made Octavia's wrong for a moment, but soon it turned back into a smile, from Pinkie's point of view at least. "Whatever it is, don't worry about it. Just wait until you see the costumes I got for us!" she said.

"I tried to help with the rock rotation, and my magic destroyed the gems while they were still growing." Vinyl pawed at the dirt, unable to look Pinkie in the eye.

"So what?" Pinkie said, wobbling as the blood started rushing to her head. "It's just a bunch of rocks. We have a New Tens Digit birthday in less than forty-six hours! Priorities!"

"You know," Vinyl said, after recovering from a moment of shock, "I was kind of thinking the same thing. I mean, yeah, it sucks that those rocks can't make diamonds and stuff anymore, but there will be more rocks, right? And isn't it a good thing that we can get some green stuff growing around here again?"

"Excuse me?" Octavia gaped. "This is my family's livelihood you're so flippantly dismissing!"

"I wasn't doing anything flippantly, Sweet."

"Don't tell me you did this on purpose."

"What? No, I would never! I was trying to help, honestly!"

Pinkie Pie didn't know which way she could turn her body to change their faces into smiles now. "Let me go talk to mom and dad," she said, cutting off their argument. "I'll sort this out if my name isn't Pinkamena Diane Responsibility Pie.”

"It isn't mom and dad you have to worry about," her sister said gravely. "It's Blinkadette."

“Blinkie? No way! She danced for three hours straight at last year's Summer Sun Celebration. She's no fuddy-duddy.”

“You'll have to talk to her soon anyway,” Octavia replied, trying not to grin at the memory of Blinkie's drunken antics that night. “So you should go inside for now. We're going to stay out here for a little while longer.” She glared at her partner, who was staring off to the side.

“I don't like it, but I will.” Pinkie said reluctantly, bringing her body back down to all fours. “You have to promise me one thing though. Guard the BPBC, and fill up that water tank on the side if it gets too low. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“Sure,” Vinyl Scratch said with a laugh. It was suppressed by nervousness, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Octavia nodded.

As reluctant as the assent was, Pinkie decided she would have to take it. She began humming the catchiest song she could think of in the hopes that it would distract the pair of lovers, and then quickly made her way up the path to her family's house. Even at her speed, and with all the distractions running through her head, the feel of this specific length of dirt under her hooves made Pinkie's heart jump. Before she could even knock, the door opened up for her.

“Pancakes!” She yelped as the scents from inside wafted out toward her. She jumped straight up into the air, and was about to dash inside, when she noticed that her parents were standing just inside the door too. “I mean, mom and dad!”

“Go ahead, Pinkamena,” Rose said, knowing full well what the consequences might be if her daughter's appetite was not satisfied.

“Thanks!” After a whoosh of air, Pinkie was at the kitchen table, scarfing down a mountain of pancakes covered in, she noted with a giggle, Apple Family brand apple syrup. Rose and Clyde Pie walked in, watching their youngest child eat with bemused grins on their faces.

“Mrwhrwfgh,” Pinkie said.

“Pinkamena, swallow your food before you speak,” her dad chided.

“Mrwhrwfgh,” Pinkie repeated after gulping down her bite. “It's an old earth nation word that means something like 'I love you and everything else.' All six of us were in some ruins a few weeks ago and we uncovered some kind of spooky portal to the past. We learned that they weren't big on vowels, or my songs, if you can imagine that.”

“I'd love to hear all about that, Pinkamena,” Clyde said as he gazed out of the window, toward their empty field. “I've got a lot of work to do right now though.”

“Oh, you mean the stage?” Pinkie Pie asked. “Just wait for me to finish eating so I can get my energy back—I am so beat—and then I'll be right there.”

“No, not the stage. You should—” He turned to leave, blocking his face from her view. “You should talk to your mother about that.” The front door opened and closed.

“Huh?” she said, mechanically pulling what little remained of the breakfast her parents had kept warm for her onto her plate. “Is he planning a surprise for me too!? Oh gosh, I hope so! This is going to be the greatest day ever.”

“Listen, dear,” Rose Pie said slowly, taking a seat next to Pinkie. “We might need to postpone the party. A lot of unexpected things came up yesterday, and we're going to be really busy for a while. Blinkadette won't mind waiting a month for the wonderful celebration I'm sure you have planned.”

“Oh come on, mom.” Pinkie laughed. “Why wait a month when we can do it now? Think how much better work will be with the buzz from a spectacular party to back it up!”

“Pinkie,” a voice whispered right after the stairs leading to the second floor creaked slightly. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Blinkie Pie's voice was hoarse, but it was unmistakable. Pinkie shoved her plate of food away with only slight regret and bounded up to meet her. Rose began cleaning the dishes, but quietly enough that she would be able to hear.

“Hi Blinkie!” Pinkie beamed. “I missed you. How have you been? Are you excited?”

“Come upstairs?” The skin around Blinkie's eyes was wrinkled and baggy, and the eyes themselves were laced with crimson and dry as a desert.

“Ooo, is this another surprise like dad's? You know it's your party coming up, not mine, right?”

Blinkadette made her way back to her room, motioning for her sister to follow. Everything, including the bed, had been covered by neat stacks of papers. These papers were filled with far too many numbers and far too few pictures for Pinkie's liking. An easel was barely visible in the corner, and the canvas mounted on it had some preliminary charcoal sketching on it. The paint cans were all closed up though, and the brushes were dry.

“So, about the party,” Blinkie began as she idly rummaged through some of the paperwork, with no particular goal in mind.

“Hey,” Pinkie said, sitting next to her sister and wrapping a foreleg around her shoulders. “I can tell something serious is up.”

Blinkie turned toward her sister with a hopeful smile. She stepped closer eagerly. Maybe this talk was going to be much easier than she thought.

“Did you change your wish list?” Pinkie said, physically checking off a mental checklist.“Are zombies or ghosts nearby? Did you invite a special somepony?”

Blinkie's face scrunched into a scowl. Pinkie almost reeled back at the sight.

“I've been thinking a lot,” said the straight-maned Pie sister. “I know how much you put into these parties, and I know how much they mean to you. I appreciate them, and they've made my life so much happier. But I'm not going to be able to do it this year.”

Pinkie said nothing, didn't even move, so Blinkadette continued talking and staring at the same page she'd been staring at for the past few minutes. “There's too much going on right now. Why don't we push back all the plans until next year? I know a twenty-first birthday should probably be different from a twentieth, but I just can't do it, Pinkie. I can't.”

Blinkie turned to another piece of paper, but only so she could hide the teardrop that had fallen onto the previous one.

“I mean, I love making money for our family. I love making deals with other ponies. I even love filing. But aside from my painting, that's all my life is. The only other ponies I know are the same ones I knew at school. My best friends are married, with foals. My crushes are married, with foals. All the rest are gone. I don't want to be rich and famous like Octavia and that friend of hers. I don't even know what I do want, Pinkie, but I know it's not this. Please, tell me you understand. Don't go ballistic and try to cheer me up. Don't try to throw the same party, or a bigger one, anyway. I'm not an Element of Harmony like you, who can just use magic to make herself feel better whenever she wants. Just give me some space. Okay?”

Blinkie held her breath. Serious talks almost never sat well with Pinkie, but maybe this time it would, just maybe. After a few seconds of feeling her insides twisting themselves into knots, she glanced over at her sibling.

Pinkie's face was contorted into a look of pure shock. Eyes wide, jaw dropped, mane sticking straight backward as if it had been blown back by a gust of wind and then gelled in place.

“Pinkie?” Blinkie ventured. No response. “Sis?” She gingerly poked the pink pony in the ribs. The body was still warm and breathing, but it didn't even blink. “Oh no.” She cupped her head in her hooves. “Now I've gone and done it.”

After taking a few shaky, lip-biting seconds to compose herself, she turned around and yelled downstairs. “Mom!”

“Yes dear?” Rose asked, conspicuously clattering some pans.

“I froze Pinkamena again! I'm sorry!”

“Alright.” She swore she could hear her mother's weary sigh as she spoke. “I'll get the water ready. You go grab the net.”

Pinkie had not been reduced to this statue-like state since the time she had discovered there was going to be a temporary sugar shortage in Ponyville. It had not been easy getting her back to normal after that.

“Well,” Blinkadette said with a bitter laugh. “At least what I said stuck...”

Chapter 3

Pinkie Pie's involuntary bouncing off of the walls, following the shock of a bucket of cold water being dumped on her, had now mostly been contained, thanks to judicious net and padding placement by her family, minus Octavia. Clyde, Rose, and Blinkie worked in concert to soften the youngest Pie's collisions as a bewildering torrent of jumbled words issued forth from Pinkie's mouth. The dominant theme was incredulity about the mere idea of delaying such an important event as a New Tens Digit birthday party. Once Pinkie's energy was reduced enough that she was merely stumbling back and forth in a web of rope and pillows and mumbling, Blinkie excused herself.

“I'm sorry,” she told her parents. “I'll be in my room.”

“Blinkadette,” her mom said, turning but not blocking her way, “you're not just going to leave your sister like this, are you?”

“I don't want to screw anything else up,” said Blinkie.

“You're not going to do any more work today,” Clyde said. “Take a break.”

Her head dropped. “Dad, I still have a whole folder of spreadsheets to go through before I can even begin work today.”

“I'll take care of it.”

“But you need to be out finding more rockseeds!” Blinkie protested.

Meanwhile, Rose was softly stroking Pinkamena's mane—frequently getting her hoof caught in the huge poofy mess of pink tangles—and whispering assurances to her. Including one that the birthday party would still take place on schedule, only maybe with some adjustments. Pinkie had her eyes closed, smiling as she leaned into her mother's touch.

“But nothing.” Clyde stamped a hoof on the floor with the gentle strength that always meant the matter was settled. “I said I'll take care of it. I was doing this before you were born.”

“For two whole plantations?” she ventured, her ears meekly flattened to the sides of her head.

“Your mother will help,” he said, his brow furrowing deeply. “We'll be fine. Don't set one eye on that paperwork. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” she said, turning her face away so that the part in her mane partially shielded herself from her dad's gaze. “But what am I supposed to do instead?”

“Why don't you visit with your sister for a while?” Rose suggested as she finished disentangling Pinkie from the nets. As soon as she was free, Pinkie began to hop in place.

“Just don't talk about you-know-what,” Clyde added.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” her parents chorused.

“I'm so sorry Gummy couldn't come,” Pinkie Pie said as she strolled along the southern rock field with Blinkadette. “He has to foalsit the Cake twins for me while I'm gone.”

“Your alligator is foalsitting?” Blinkie asked incredulously.

“Not by himself, of course!” she said. “He has help. Don't worry, sis, Madam LeFlour runs a tight ship. They'll be just fine.”

“Who is that?” Blinkie spotted something small and sparkly poking out from under the ground, went over, and began to dig around it with her hoof. “Another new friend of yours?”

“What are you doing?” Pinkie's eyes went wide. “You're not working, are you? Dad said—”

“Dad said not to do any paperwork,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Pinkie's eyes darted around. Dad was nowhere to be seen. In fact, they had come out so far that she could barely even see the house, dreary as it was. She only knew where to look because of the motionless windmill next to it. Still, she fidgeted.

“It still looks like you're working,” she said, shaking her head. “Blinkie, why don't you just relax? It'll all be okay!”

“Maybe for you,” muttered Blinkie as she pulled up a small, crystalline geode from the earth, which they could probably get at least a few rockseeds out of, with some effort...

“Alright.” Pinkie nodded firmly. “There's only one way to deal with this problem. Time to initiate Applejack Mode.”

Vinyl Scratch was carefully filling up the water tank on the side of Pinkie’s “Birthday Carty” for Blinkie. She and Octavia both shared a nervous look as something long and serpentine bulged out underneath the tarp that covered the wagon. It slid underneath the fabric, creating the outline of a snake, or a tentacle, or maybe something that would have made Vinyl retreat even faster than she already was after the job was done. Whatever it was, she was sure it was searching for a way out, and she was equally sure she didn't want to be right there when it happened. There was a distinctly un-pony groan, and then the mass settled back down into the chaotic, tightly-constrained jumble of luggage.

She turned around and, precisely in the middle of her heavy sigh of relief, she saw that Clyde Pie had joined them, and was standing right behind her. The sigh became a high-pitched squeal.

“Good morning, Miss Scratch,” he said, placing a fresh piece of chewing-hay in his mouth.

“Good morning, sir,” Vinyl responded with a slight waver.

“My family and I have discussed the matter of what happened yesterday.” His voice was uneven and gravelly, his tone hard but not totally solid. “We aren't going to press charges for the destroyed property. We aren't going to turn out a friend of Pinkamena's and a special somepony of Octavia's, either.”

A significant “but...” silence ensued, during which Vinyl caught Octavia's eyes. Her lover was chewing her lip and shuffling among her hooves. It didn't seem like she was worried about what her father was going to say though. Vinyl's brow had just enough time to knit into a confused knot before Clyde resumed his speech.

“But if you want my blessing to continue seeing my daughter, or more,” he proclaimed, “then you're going to stay here and help us undo some of this damage. For as long as it takes. Octavia has already decided to stay and do her part, so now it's up to you, miss.”

Vinyl stared at the ground just in front of Clyde Pie's feet. Next week, she had a huge rave scheduled in Canterlot. Then she had to resume networking with some of the more upper-class ponies there in preparation for her bid to perform at the city's grand Hearth's Warming Eve after-party. Not to mention all of her fellow artists whom she planned on turning out to support. Missing even one could cost that friend of a lot of publicity and money.

Vinyl's eyes slid over to where Octavia was standing, and she wondered what her special mare could possibly be thinking. If the cellist stayed here, she would miss the orchestra's departure from Canterlot to begin their holiday tour. Even for a pony as celebrated as Octavia, missing the first show could cost her her chair. She stood to lose a lot of money and prestige from this misadventure. Vinyl understood why she was doing it anyway when her wandering gaze fixated on the pink bow tie which Octavia always wore, and which Vinyl adored. It had been one of the gifts Octavia had received from Pinkie Pie on the oldest's own twentieth birthday party.

“Okay,” Vinyl Scratch said, managing to project a little bit of confidence into her tone. “What do you need me to do?”

Octavia's head tilted, and her shimmering eyes spoke volumes of concern and gratitude. “Dolce, you don't have to. You know that, right?”

“Yes, but...” She swallowed hard. In the back of her mind, she heard the very first words Octavia had ever spoken to her. Might I have this dance? At the time, the scene was hilarious, and she responded with a disbelieving—and nervous—laugh. This was at an event that was too highbrow for a kinetic pony like Vinyl, but too lowbrow for a tie-wearing, elegant, earth pony, yet there they both were, for reasons they would both fail to really articulate. Octavia came right up to her and posed the question as if it were as natural as asking where the hors d'oeuvres were.

It hadn't helped that this happened not a week after a nasty breakup with a girlfriend whose parents happened to be one of the vanishingly-small remnants of homosexual bigotry in Equestria. Vinyl hoped that the laugh would get the stranger to go away so that she wouldn't have to deal with that fact, in public at least. Instead, Octavia stood in place and watched her with such a calm, earnest smile that all of the DJ's thoughts spun off the turntables. She panicked and stammered out a “sure.”

Before long, they were dancing to a beat the band wasn't playing, and humming a harmony that the singers weren't singing, all before they even knew each other's names. Octavia's confidence was amazing. Vinyl could work a crowd, and she could keep up just enough of an aura of coolness to create the illusion of confidence among ponies who didn't know her well. She thought her goggles were cute and cool, but their main purpose was to augment that aura. But when it came down to just her and another pony, especially such a gorgeous one, the desire to hide and the desire to be seen were thrown together in a potent concoction of awkwardness.

Octavia Pie had none of that, then or now. She had just made the decision to stay here on the farm and fix Vinyl's mistakes, no matter the cost to her career. Vinyl imagined her deciding that in the same tone of voice she used when asking for that first dance, and suddenly she knew that she did, in fact, have to do this.

“But I think we're meant to be together,” she whispered, glancing at Octavia, but then staring straight into her father's eyes.

“Mhm.” He switched his piece of straw from one side of his mouth to the other, but otherwise his face remained a stony enigma. “Well, first of all, you should know that unicorns are far from worthless on a rock farm. Just don't use your magic on the rocks directly, just to be safe. But we'd like you to do chores around the house with Octavia instead. Rose will have a list. You are welcome to come stay inside again as well, as long as you work hard, with supervision. If Blinkadette gives you any trouble, come to me.”

“I'm sure it'll all be good,” Vinyl Scratch said, pulling her goggles up over her eyes with determination. “Let's do this.”

“Mhm.” Clyde's piece of straw switched back to the other side of his mouth, then he turned and walked off into the barren fields, occasionally stopping to poke at some outcroppings in his path.

“Goodness, Vinyl,” Octavia breathed, stepping up close. “I know it has been a couple of years, but I didn't know things were quite that serious.”

The unicorn coughed. “Why don't we get the work started? I'm sure there's a lot to do.”

Octavia nodded, kissed Vinyl on the cheek, and then led her back into her childhood home. As they departed, Pinkie's wagon emitted a wet sloshing sound, followed by a long wooden creak.

“Now listen here, sugarcube,” Pinkie said in a disturbing mixture of her normal high-pitched squeak and the deep drawl of a pony from the southwest of Equestria. “What's really botherin' you? You can tell me.”

“Uh,” she replied, gaping, “well, that, for starters. You're so special, Pinkie. Weird, but special. So is Octavia. And everypony around the both of you knows it. All the ponies I used to know either left, or don't really know me anymore.”

“So yer lonely then?” Pinkie bobbed her head with satisfaction. “Well we can fix that, no problem. Setchya up with some rootin-tootin new ponies from a few towns over and you'll be happy as apple pie.”

“It's not that simple,” said Blinkie. “Why would they stick around if you did? I'm not talented. I'm not good-looking. I'm not a hero. I'm not rich. I'm just the middle Pie sister, who didn't amount to anything.”

“Hey now, I ain't gonna tolerate that kinda talk from my little sis,” Pinkie scolded. Blinkie was going to correct the age difference, but she concluded that the attempt would be futile at this point. “Yer a smart, tough cookie, like a sugar biscuit left sittin' out too long in an east-facin' window in a library.”

All Blinkie could do was stare uncomprehendingly at her sister as she launched even further into the metaphor, telling her things that would probably be compliments, if one made a serious effort to decode them. In lieu of that, Blinkie reflected on the way Pinkamena used to be. Specifically, just like Blinkie was. Focused, dull, boring. Although she had the advantage of standing out because she was pink, whereas Blinkadette could not have been more thoroughly average. Then the Rainboom happened, and everything changed.

At first, their parents were skeptical about the changes. They tried to restyle Pinkie's mane, but no amount of brushing or application of products could tame that beast. In a single day, there had been much more bouncing, talking, and smiling than the rest of the family combined saw in a whole year. While the family enjoyed them immensely, multiple parties every day were a bit much. They talked her down to two parties a week, at most. But that didn't stop the torrent of little things she always did to make them smile. She taped notes to have “Rockin' Days!”, complete with crudely-drawn images of her grinning face, in the most random of places. Once, Blinkie had woken up to find a poster of the image taped on the ceiling above her bed. The sheer terror at her sister's unnaturally-wide grin being the first thing she saw in the morning just made her laugh even harder, after the initial screaming was over.

Pinkie had given her her first painter's brush, too. It was pretty useless for work on all but the largest canvases, being a long, swirly thing with huge, rainbow-colored bristles. Sometimes she still used it anyway though, because it was challenging, and because she had never tasted another brush quite like it. The plain, smooth oak of the handle had a whiff of cocoa to it, just like the kind that mom, and later Pinkie, would put into special treats for the family. Even now, her mouth watered just a tiny bit as she thought about using her tongue to wrest something resembling art out of that ungainly brush.

When asked, Pinkie didn't even know why she got it. She said that she just thought it was something Blinkie might like. And she had indeed liked it. Blinkie hoped she could decorate each room of the house with at least one excellent painting one day. For now though, decent ones would have to do, until she could perfect the craft.

This always happens. Blinkie's stare dropped down to the ground, and her eyes started to brim with tears. Whenever she's away, I get so jealous about all the amazing things she's done. Then she comes back, and I see how terrible that is. She only wants me to be happy. Why can't I be happy?

“Will ya jus' try to have fun at yer party?” Pinkie's question, still thickly-accented, shook her out of her internal monologue. “Fer me?”

“I will, Pinkie,” she responded. She walked over and scooped her younger sibling into an embrace. “Thank you for everything.”

“Aw, shucks. An' I was jus' startin' to enjoy Applejack Mode too. Ah well.” Pinkie shook her head back and forth violently, then grinned. “But Pinkie Mode is fun too!” she declared in her usual voice.

“I'm getting kind of hungry,” said Blinkadette, with a grin that nearly matched Pinkamena's. There was no way she could stretch her mouth as wide, but her relative rarity of genuine smiles made each crease and wrinkle the smile caused on her face into something special, and, some might say, pretty. “Do you want to go back now? I'll make us something if mom hasn't.”

They chatted amiably on the way back, or more accurately, Pinkie Pie chatted while Blinkie mostly listened with a placid, content expression on her face. The fact that this empty, gray field should have been full of full-grown gems didn't bother her anymore. In fact, the possibilities in store started to race through her head. Should we try a cross-stitch flora planting pattern this time? That would ensure maximum tree height before the next rotation. The grass might suffer a little, but judging from the latest Cloudsdale weather almanac, the extra shade might not be such a bad idea in the hot summer coming up. It would make walks like this even nicer...

An ear-splitting crack echoed across the plain. Then, the family windmill was somehow lifted straight out of the ground and began swinging back and forth in the air in the distance, as if waving at them. There was a long appendage wrapped around it: a tentacle, attached to a gigantic, purple octopus that was cooing loudly as it used its other arms to pull water out of the well under the mill and bathe itself.

“Rocktopus, no!” Pinkie shouted as she shifted into a run straight toward the scene. How did he get out of the cage!? She halted in her tracks when she heard a gut-wrenching cry from behind her. She looked back and saw Blinkie, with a face full of slightly more despair than terror, trembling. After a moment of wavering, Blinkie's entire body appeared to snap. She let out a choked sob, turned, then bolted away as fast as she could.

“Blinkie, wait!” Pinkie faltered. She started running after her sister, then back toward the house, then toward her sister again. Her face scrunched up as she saw silhouettes of ponies trying to contain the loose animal. But with an agonized whimper, she sped off in the direction Blinkie had gone. Four ponies can deal with Rocktopus. Only I can help Blinkie.

She could see the cloud of dust her sibling's run had kicked up, but Blinkie was heading toward the western field, which was currently full of trees, bushes, and even some grain crops. If she didn't catch up quick, she might lose her. Pinkie tore across the drab rubble.

While Blinkie was fit from laboring in the farms since childhood, Pinkie had that advantage too, plus grueling physical training with Rainbow Dash, plus frequent, death-defying adventures, plus being currently loaded up with enough sugar to power an airship. She closed the distance quickly. Seeing this, Blinkadette screamed at her.

“Leave me alone!”

In response, Pinkie forced her legs to go even faster, carrying her in range for a tackle. She jumped and plowed into Blinkie, sending them both tumbling across the cracks and pebbles that littered the field. Bruised and panting, Blinkie picked herself up and tried to make another break for the foliage. Pinkie bounced into her path.

“Rocktopus was supposed to be a birthday surprise,” she said, barely out of breath. “I'm sorry.”

“Y-you're sorry that it wasn't a surprise!?” Blinkie screamed raggedly. “Not for the fact that, in addition to being broke, we're now going to die of thirst too!? Assuming the rampaging squid doesn't kill us first, anyway!”

“Octopus,” Pinkie corrected. “And he would never hurt anypony. That's why he was going to be part of the musical.”

“A musical?” Blinkie paused. “Actually, you know what? I don't want to know. Go away.”

“But...”

“Please, Pinkie. I'm begging you. Just let me be alone for a while.”

She thought carefully, glancing back and forth between the direction of the homestead, from which distant shouting could still be heard, and her older sister, who was shaking and red-eyed. “Only if you Pinkie Promise that you'll be back home before the sun goes down.”

With only a moment's hesitation, Blinkie went through the rhyme and motions of the promise with a solemnity that belied the ridiculous appearance of sticking her hoof in her eye.

“And only if you take this with you.” From deep in the recesses of her mane, Pinkie retrieved a miniature pink cannon. “Fire it if you need anything. Anything at all. Okay?”

Blinkie nodded. She gently and carefully took the cannon in her teeth, then walked backwards toward the greenery-filled field, unwilling to look away from Pinkamena just yet. Finally, she skulked into a mass of corn stalks without looking back.

Pinkie Pie sat down weightily. She knew she should move, but her heart felt like an anchor dug in deeply to this spot. She looked up at the morning sun, shining brightly even though it was covered by a blanket of gray clouds. She closed her eyes very slowly and did her best to let the warmth come to her, but she still felt cold. She sighed and turned her head down toward the earth, hoping she could just get sucked down into it, if only for a little while. No luck there either.

Just as she was about to stand back up, she heard a vaguely familiar voice call to her.

“Hey kid, why the long face?” It was a thick Manehattan accent, and it came from a neatly stacked pile of rocks, on top of which had been placed a bright, conical party hat. It can't be...

“Rocky!” Pinkie whooped and darted over to her old friend. “What are you doing here?”

“You know I'd neva miss an important party like this, Pinksta,” he said, bouncing and chipping with each word.

“Oh, but this is going to be a terrible party, Rocky!” Pinkie lamented, curling up next to the pile of stones.

“With you around? Ain't no way. Why ya gotta go and say somethin' like that?”

“Because we keep messing everything up for Blinkie and making her all stressed out and sad. First a whole crop of rocks gets destroyed because Vinyl didn't know not to use magic directly on them, and now Rocktopus breaks out of his cage and decides to live in our well. All while she's trying to do other work and stuff.” She let out a deep, un-Pinkie-like sigh. “What am I supposed to do?”

“The only thing you can do, kid,” said Rocky. “You gotta make it right.”

“But how do I do that?” asked Pinkie.

“Take a good long look at what she needs to get done, then do it. Once she ain't got no needs to worry about, she'll be able to get down. Know what I'm sayin'?”

“I think so, but her work is so... boring.” Pinkie looked around for a way out of this, but she wasn't seeing one.

“So's trainin' for the championship,” he said, flexing one of the middle stones in his tower. “It's grueling and ya gonna wanna give up every stop o' the way. But once you reach ya limit and keep fightin' anyway, that's when the magic happens. You got ya family to help too. And me.”

“But what about the party?” There was completely sincere sadness in Pinkie’s voice.

“Make the work the party,” he suggested. “Ya know, like one o’ them weirdo Apple Family barn raisin’s.”

“Oh, Rocky,” Pinkie said, adjusting the hat so that it stood more proudly atop his 'head.' “You're a genius!”

“No I'm not. I'm an imaginary pile o' rocks.”

Chapter 4

Blinkie was finally back to breathing normally. The backs of her eyes hurt wickedly, and she had chipped her hooves. She wanted to believe her kicks had chipped more of the bark off the trees and the stone off the rocks, but she knew that was not the case. All she had gotten out of it was pain. She delicately sat down on her haunches and focused on the words and images still rolling around in her head.

“That's why I named her Octavia, you know,” her father had said. Of course. She was the oldest. The darling. The geode of Clyde Pie's eye, so she got the special name. The other two got traditional names, chosen by mom. But while Pinkamena's name wasn't unique, she definitely was. Everything from being completely pink, to being the young favorite, to changing the whole family's outlook on life. Blinkie thought back to the way mom had held Pinkie earlier, and she couldn't remember the last time she had been held at all.

She found it strange that it wasn't the image itself that made her want to cry. She didn't even want to be coddled like that. So why did it bother her so much? Blinkie huffed and blinked out a last couple of teardrops. She kicked a pebble, and sent it arcing through the air until it bounced off of the hoof of a pony she hadn't noticed before.

There stood dad, quietly contemplating her and ignoring the rock. Blinkie lowered her head and mumbled an apology.

“What are you doing all the way out here, Blinkadette?” he asked, surveying the bushy limbo between barren and verdant land that this remote section of the farm was host to. “We've got everything under control, so you can come on back now.”

“I don't want to, dad,” she said. “I need to be by myself right now, and please, please, whatever you do, don't say you're disappointed in me...”

“Disappointed in you?” The straw nearly fell out of Clyde's mouth when his jaw dropped. He stepped closer to her, but his face fell when the movement caused her to shy away. “I am not disappointed in you in the slightest. What I am is mad as heck at your sisters, and some of the company they keep.”

“Then why are you letting them stay?” Blinkie tried to shout, but it came out as more of a croak. “They ruined everything I spent the last six months working on, and now they're ruining my birthday too!”

“That's a good question.” He tried to move closer to his daughter again, and he sighed with faint relief when she didn't recoil. “Of course, I still love them, and that's an important consideration. I think another big reason, though, is that if you're kind and understanding about it, guilty ponies make very good temporary workers. Even if they're not rock farmers, they have their uses.”

She stared at him and thought she saw the tiniest hint of a curl at the end of his lips.

“Listen here, Blinkadette,” he went on, finally getting close enough to her to rest a hoof on her shoulder. She continued to look at him with wide, quivering eyes. “This is a heck of a mess, you're right. But there comes a time when we have to stop blaming and start fixing. And we can't fix this family without you.”

Blinkie bit her lip to avoid a sob. “I hate it when you try to guilt us into things, dad,” she whispered. “Maybe you should try to fix it without me anyway.”

“We can do that too,” Clyde Pie said. Blinkie tried to convince herself that the trace of desperation she heard in his voice was just wishful thinking on her part. “But we've got food ready. Why not come take a plate, at the least?”

“I told you, I don't—” Blinkie's stomach snarled at her. For a few moments, she weighed her hunger against potentially having to face her siblings again.

Octavia's apparently successful love life hurt even more than her wealth and popularity. Blinkie knew she didn't have enough talent to be such a star, but she should at least be able to find a special somepony, shouldn't she? She wasn't interested in mares, though, and she'd known all the colts in a fifty mile radius since they were fillies, far too long a time to find any of them exciting. Maybe I should just settle, she thought. Some of them aren't bad looking, I guess. And I do want foals of my own, even if mom and dad are really annoying about it.

But then she'd never measure up to Pinkie either. While she knew she could never undertake anything like her young sister's epic, death-defying adventures, she did have a chance to be as free-spirited and independent. Pinkie had a job, rented an apartment far away from home, was even foalsitting in her spare time, but still had the opportunity to drop everything and do what she wanted too. Blinkie wondered if she would ever even leave her parents' house. Maybe I'll just build my own little miniature homestead right next to theirs. That will be extra depressing.

So what is my role supposed to be?

“Okay dad,” she said. “Don't expect me to make small talk though.”

He gave her a stern, steady look, then started to lead the way back.

“So that's the plan!” Pinkie declared triumphantly, striking a hoof on the dinner table for emphasis. Rose, Vinyl, and Octavia stared incredulously.

“Pinkamena, we're not like you,” Octavia said. “We aren't magic. We can't simply—do things like that. We're just normal ponies.”

“Normal ponies are the most magical of all!” Pinkie protested as she passed the stage blueprints around the table. “Or something like that. More importantly, dad said so, so you have to try.”

“Oh, mom.” Octavia groaned. “Please tell me dad didn't say to do this.”

Rose nodded as she vainly adjusted her spectacles to try to make sense of the documents she was looking at. “He did.”

“I think it'll be fun,” said Vinyl, who was tying up her "Wub the Cook" apron to begin dinner preparations. “Come on, 'Tavi. It'll at least be funny even if it doesn't work, right?”

“That's very comforting,” she deadpanned. “Very well then. Count me in, dear sister.”

“Yes!” Pinkie leaped over the table, flipped around in mid-air, and landed so that she could run backwards toward the door, allowing her to continue beaming directly at her conspirators. “Thank you so much, guys! You won't regret this!” She bumped hard into the wall in her haste, nearly breaking one of the vases the house's decorative plants had been placed in. She carefully got the plant under control, then searched out the door handle with her rear hoof, her smile unwavering the entire time. Once the exit was open, she zoomed outside like a pink gust of wind.

A few minutes after Pinkie left the house, the hum of electrical sound amplifiers filled the air. Vinyl's tail practically jerked her body around as it swished with excitement at the noise. Octavia's reaction to the host of pre-musical sounds was more muted, but hers was definitely moving too. The couple's tails got caught together, and they laughed as they struggled to disentangle themselves, ending up “accidentally” collapsing and rolling around on the floor in laughter.

Rose Pie made sure she was turned away so that they could see neither her smile nor the rolling of her eyes. “Miss Scratch, it's time to put the potatoes in the pots.”

“O-Of course, ma'am!” Vinyl shot up and immediately rushed over to help.

With a melodramatic sigh directed squarely at her mother, Octavia also sat up. When she saw no response from mom was forthcoming, she started walking up the stairs toward Blinkie's room to begin her role in the plot. Her look lingered on Vinyl Scratch, whose small, white apron simultaneously gave her a down-to-earth, homebody aura, while also accentuating her curves and the lack of anything else covering them. Vinyl, of course, was too busy trying to be useful to notice her gaze, but that was likely for the best. If she had seen Octavia's warm smile, the reaction might have made them both cry, or throw themselves at each other, or both. She tore her eyes away, then lifted them with rising dread toward the room where page after page of financial documents lurked.

“You're a genius,” she whispered to herself. “Everypony at the academy said so. You can do this...”

When Blinkie came in sight of her home again, she cringed when she saw that Pinkie's octopus was still there. Only now, instead of bathing itself in their precious water, it was perched on a wooden stage some distance away from the house. It supported itself on two tentacles while the other six held musical instruments; two worked a drum set, two held a bass guitar, and two had a lead guitar. All were electric, hooked up to a big white amplifier which bore the image of Vinyl Scratch's musical cutie mark on the side. Each “player” in the “band” was dressed in an artificially shredded rocker costume, complete with fishnets, chains, wigs of every color and style, piercings, and tattoos, all hung artfully in place on the animal's slick, smooth appendages... somehow.

Pinkamena Diane Pie stood at the front of the stage with a microphone, waiting. Her face was straight and serious, even with the zig-zagging patterns of black and white makeup that adorned her face. Her mane was spiked in every direction, with a flame-patterned bandana wrapped around her forehead. When she spotted Blinkie—whose face was frozen in bewilderment—and their father, she nodded at them, then spoke.

“Straight from Ponyville, give it up for Rocktopus!” Pinkie said in a loose approximation of a punk singer's growl, which blasted and echoed across the flat expanse of the farm. Her high pitched voice and cheerful tone rebelled and clashed against how threatening she was trying to sound, but she continued anyway. “This concert goes out to the specialest sister in the world, Blinkadette Rosalyn Pie!”

After a pause long enough for wild applause—although there wasn't any, due to the field being deserted—Pinkie continued. “We're going to wish you a happy birthday with a brand new song. While we're playing, we're going to montage the stuffing out of this birthday and get things done! But enough chit-chat. This one's called “Eye of the Pony,” and it's going to rock your socks off, whether you're wearing any or not!”

Fireworks of every bright and happy hue exploded from the front of the stage, nearly burning Blinkie's staring eyes. She discovered that she was giggling slightly when the first notes on the guitar began to play. Then she was nearly blown back when the bass and the drums joined together in an epic intro.

DUN.

DUN DUN DUUUUUUN—

Rocktopus was playing the instruments with a speed and precision that would put many talented unicorn musicians to shame. His slimy tendrils plucked the guitar strings just right, and banged on the drums and cymbals in a steady, powerful beat. The ground shook, and Pinkie began to sing.

Risin' up, back on the sheet,
Checked the time, did the dances,
Went the distance
Now I'm bakin' some sweets,
Just a mare and her will to go jive...

Octavia, earplugs firmly in place, pored over walls of words and numbers. “This isn't fair,” she said to herself, then her face dropped into a guilty frown. She sighed and closed her eyes. After a few moments of controlling her breathing, she opened her eyes again, and they now blazed with determination. She scribbled some notes with her pen and tried to remember how to do long division.

So many times, it rises too fast
You trade your sugar for curry,
Don't lose your grip on the creams of the past
You must cook just to keep them alive!

Rose Pie was ranging far afield to look for suitable rocks to plant. The din of the impromptu rock concert could still be heard easily. It was certainly not the kind of music she normally listened to, and she grumbled something to that effect, but unbeknownst to her, her pickaxe strokes were exactly in time with the beat of the song. It occurred to her that she should be much more tired from the effort than she was, since she hadn't worked in the field in years, but she was pleasantly surprised to feel invigorated instead.

Pinkie launched into the chorus, backed up by some slick guitar riffs from Rocktopus.
It's the eye of the pony
It's the flavor you bake,
Risin' up in the oven
Of our rival
And the best known MacGuyver
Preps her dough for the cake
And she's watching us all with the
Eye of the pony!

Blinkie was struggling to make sense of the scene. Giant octopus. Had he been feeding on their dirt? Ridiculous costumes. Where did the equipment come from? Song she had never heard before. Why was no one else here? It was just her. And dad, who had been so steady through all the insanity, now and in the past, from her sisters and from her. Could she ever pay him back? And Pinkie, who was pouring her heart into every note, not knowing or caring if she sang off-key, as long as those she loved were there to hear it. And the octopus, who was dressed just like a real band, if one squinted. Even his big, black, alien eyes seemed to want to make her happy. This is stupid... but not as stupid as spending my birthday pitying myself. To Tartarus with that. Maybe every other day of the year, but not this one.

In that moment, she cracked. She beamed, giggled in nearly terrifying convulsions, then fell over. Soon Blinkie was rolling on her back, laughing so hard that her dad could hear her distinctly over the blare of the music. A strained grin stretched across his face, the kind that can only come when tears are also on their way. He calmly sat down next to her, just out of range of the hoof she was pounding into the ground with delight. As much as the performance amused Clyde Pie, his eyes stayed locked on Blinkie.

Risin' up, back on the sheet
Checked the time, did the dances,
Went the distance
Now I'm back on my feet
Just a mare and her will to go jive,

Hours passed, but it seemed like only a couple minutes to Vinyl. And not in a “time flies when you're having fun” kind of way either. She was having fun making food for everyone, and being able to see the totally sweet concert happening outside, of course, but this was different. She felt that if her horn could twitch, it would be doing so right now. She shrugged and dismissed the thoughts, for now. What was important was that the dinner preparations had entered the waiting stage, and it was time to get the rest of the chores finished. She looked upstairs with longing, but the list of tasks she had to do appeared in a magical nimbus before her eyes, like her horn had developed a will of its own and was using it to block her figurative view of Octavia. She mumbled some unkind words about subconscious magic, then grabbed the broom and marched toward the entryway.

Face to face, eating a beet,
Chewin' tough, stayin' hungry
They come in wads
Still we take to the street
For the hill with the grill on its side

It's the eye of the pony
It's the flavor you bake,
Risin' up in the oven
Of our rival
And the best known MacGuyver
Preps her dough for the cake
And she's watching us all with the
Eye of the pony!

The finances were organized. Thanks to Blinkie's meticulous notes, and some vague mnemonic devices Octavia had drilled into her head long ago, it was done. She looked up. The sun was setting, and... were they still playing the same song outside? She pulled out an earplug to listen more closely. They were. She raised a perplexed eyebrow.

Risin' up straight to the top
Had the nuts, got the saury
Went the distance
Now I'm not gonna stop
Just a mare and her will to go jive

Pinkie was sliding and bouncing across the stage during the wicked guitar solo that followed that repetition of the chorus. She caught herself mid-twirl when she saw Blinkie's collapsed, laughter-wracked body. She made a sound that was part squee, part whimper, which nearly threw her off her game. No, she thought. This is serious. Put on your Grr face! She shook herself out of the reverie just in time to lead into the song's finish. She grabbed the mike and belted out the lyrics like the fate of Equestria was hanging in the balance.

Risin' up, back on the sheet
Checked the time, did the dances,
Went the distance
Now I'm bakin' some sweets,
Just a mare and her will to go jive,

So many times, it rises too fast
You trade your sugar for curry,
Don't lose your grip on the creams of the past
You must cook just to keep them alive

As the last note drifted out into the star-filled night, all the ponies—and the octopus—at the Pie Family Plantation stopped what they were doing. They gazed at the sky, and at any others that were nearby. They independently but simultaneously made the decision to gather back in the house's family room. Rocktopus had to hang outside, but one of his titanic eyes peered in from one of the windows to watch the family—and the unicorn newcomer—sit around the couches and cushions.

Vinyl Scratch brought out the dinner that she had spent all day marinating and stewing to perfection. Each pony took at least one bowl that night, with Pinkie topping out at nine. There was no alcohol, but they all felt and acted buzzed from the day's events. Legs draped over each other, warm smiles, laughter shared. Blinkie ached for a blank canvas in front of her, but she didn't want to move after her third bowl, either. She tried to burn the image into her memory instead, drawing a few quizzical looks when the effort made her grunt a little.

“Uh oh, are you gassy, Blinkie?” asked Pinkie. “We didn't screw up dinner too, did we?”

“No, no,” Blinkie replied, blushing. “I'm not—gassy. I just... I want to make sure I remember this night the right way. I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make any sense.”

“Nope, but that's all good, sugarcube.” Pinkie's voice briefly picked up the same twangy accent she had used during “Applejack Mode.”

“By the way, that show was well done, Pinkamena,” Octavia said quietly. The others, most of all Blinkie, talked over each other to agree wholeheartedly, but they fell silent when Octavia said something else in an even more restrained tone. “However, I'm sorry if this ruins the evening, but I simply must say this. There really is no delicate way to put it... we're running out of money, quickly.”

“What?” Clyde asked. “Are you sure about that? We've still got plenty of savings, property—”

“Which will all be gone in a year if we don't do something.”

They all turned to look at Blinkie.

“It's probably true,” she said. “I'd have to double check the numbers, but buying the other plantation was a huge investment gamble, and we lost.”

“Well, that's fine,” said Rose. “We'll just have to sell it and take out a second mortgage, perhaps.”

“That's crazy,” said her husband. “That will destroy our credit, and that’s assuming we can even find a buyer.”

If the business-related talk had not quickly sent Pinkie into deep sleep, she may have had something constructive to add. As it was, she snored and inflated and deflated a bubble of saliva hanging out of the edge of her mouth.

“I know quite a few influential ponies in both finance and politics,” Octavia said. “So does Vinyl. Why don't we consult some of them? I'm sure we can...”

The voices grew muffled and indistinct as Blinkie silently withdrew from the room. She crept down to the dusty basement, biting at the air and hoping it would catch the light bulb string. She finally found it and pulled, lighting the cellar with a muted orange glow. Climbing over piles of outdated farming tools, thick, endlessly rebound family albums, and stashes of balloons and sugar that had to be Pinkie's, she made her way to the very back.

There, a canvas almost as large as the wall rested against it, covered with a drape. Blinkie gripped the cloth and pulled it off, revealing one of the paintings she was most proud of.

It was the day that Pinkie had first introduced the family to the concept of “parties.” Or rather, it was loosely based on that event, years after the fact. The little filly in the center of the silo, amidst all the candles and sweets and streamers, was not pink, nor even a pony. In fact, she was just an uncannily equine-shaped rock. The myriad balloons from that day were all tied to its stony body. The cords on the balloons were taut, and the plastic that contained their air was starting to stretch into strained, distorted shapes that swirled impossibly across the entire upper portion of the canvas, but all their efforts were not in vain. The statue had a tiny hint of a shadow inked in underneath it, having been lifted just an inch or two off the ground.

Blinkie searched around for a pot of ink and a pen. After grabbing hold of one, she coaxed just enough out of its ancient contents to sign “Blinkie Pie” in the lower right corner of her work. She regarded the name with a sad but contemplative expression. I know what the paint means, now I just have to figure out what the signature means.

“Blinkadette?” Octavia was the one who spoke, but everypony had gathered in the basement and was watching her with familial concern. Even Vinyl, to a degree.

“Just the pony I wanted to see,” Blinkie replied, shelving the ink and walking toward her older sister. “You asked if I was considering selling my paintings, right? Well, I could use some extra birthday money this year, so if you could get me in touch with your rich friends, I'd really appreciate it.”

“Pardon?” Octavia voiced the looks on everypony else's faces. “You said the paintings were for yourself. There is no need to sell something so important to you. Our situation isn’t that dire, my dear.”

“Yes, I did say they were for myself.” Blinkie's gaze passed along each pony in turn. Dad, who brought her back and sat with her for one of the happiest things she'd ever seen. Pinkie, who had set most of it up. Mom, who spent the day working the field again and not complaining at all about it. Octavia, who finally finished most of the paperwork and was going to stay to help out longer... along with Vinyl, who had started all of this in many ways, but who had also apparently agreed to help fix it without hesitation.

“But I said they were for my family too.” She slowly walked up to her father, who immediately threw his forelegs around her. Rose's, Pinkie's, and Octavia's soon followed, until the Pies were squeezing each other for all they were worth. Blinkie opened her eyes during the embrace and saw Vinyl hanging back, looking extremely out of place. “That also means you,” she said, much less begrudgingly than she expected. The unicorn, her sister's love, and not a freak at all, walked into the opening Blinkie created in the pile of ponies. They all finally held each other close. None of them, not even the birthday girl herself, cared that Blinkadette Rosalyn Pie's twentieth birthday party was drawing to an end in a dingy cellar with barely any light. She didn't know what the next day would bring, but even if it was worse, Blinkie was ready for it now. She had survived.

“If you’re sure about that,” Octavia mused, “then I can certainly help you. This one is really quite remarkable.” She squinted at the canvas. “Oh my! Did you do this alla prima?”

“I did, yeah,” Blinkie said with a modest shrug. “I had the whole day off and a lot of paint, so I thought I would try something new.”

“You mean you painted this entire thing in one sitting?” said Vinyl. “That’s amazing! You know Octavia, Fancy Pants totally goes for stuff like that. I think he’d pop his monocle if he saw one this size. I mean, if Blinkie is sure sure...”

“I am.” Blinkie squeezed them all closer, and Rocktopus finally joined in on the group hug by sneaking several tentacles through the basement window and wrapping them around the group of ponies. Though surprised and a little disgusted, the family still laughed and hugged him back.