"Pah-ney!"
You feel small hooves gently move you. And by gently, you were, in actuality, shaken off the bed onto the wood-tiled floor.
As you grunt with the pain from landing on your elbow with a heavy thud (You question yourself every day of why you didn't get some carpet installed) and open your eyes, your ears twitching from the utterance, you notice a small animalistic face of pale violet coat and blond mane above you that is far too adorable and visually improbable (her eyes were the size of your palm) to have come from any environment humans are normally raised in.
Your mind automatically identifies the face as one of Dinky Doo's. Your legally adopted child. Or filly...
Whatever rocks your boat. Heh.
"Pah-ney!" Dinky whined. Her brow contorted into a panicked frown.
Ah, there it was again. Now, the thing about translating Equestrian at the bare beginning moment of consciousness was that your brain would allow the words to flow through our head, from one ear to another, with no sort of understanding whatsoever of what any Equine would have said. Even your beloved Ditzy Doo. Well, at least human brains do. You always woke up these days wondering if whatever all that had happened to you recently was just a dream, and that it could easily transform into a nightmare if you had merely forgotten one morning how to speak and listen in Equestrian with full comprehension. The thoughts would always trigger speedy conclusions of your reckoning. Of your ruined relationship with Ditzy and the fillies. Whether they would accept you or not. Or if you could ever share a moment of understanding and compassionate love with your favorite mailmare in the world.
Then your brain, the evil little spawn of the Tartarus that it is, fools you with a "Psyche!" and gifts you with your recovered knowledge after the morning-start up hindrance, as your IQ literally decreased to around 60 in the morning, and gives you back your abilities after laughing at your expense with its tiny, folded imaginary mouth.
You decided along time ago that your brain was, and still is, a complete prick.
So now, after a few seconds of conscious boot-up, your brain just now begins to easily and fluently translate the Equestrian phrase your adorable Dinky had just said to you.
Ah, now the funny thing about the phrase "Pah-ney", is that it could mean anything from 'mother' or 'father', to 'protector' or even 'guardian'. Equine culture was strange that way, but...ehh. Human culture must have seemed confusing to them also. You just assume that she means to call you 'Father'. The assumption of her more informal consideration of you made you feel special inside.
You respond with a quick "What's wrong, Dinky?" in the Equine's native tongue.
Dinky urgently blurted, "You have to get up, right now!"
You exhale slowly and blink your half-open eyes, "Dinky, can't you wake me up later? It's too early for this."
You stare longingly back at the bed. A few moments ago when you were laying upon it with its other occupant, you felt like you were sleeping on a magical cloud. Partially because you actually were, and, no, you didn't consider anything on this planet as 'magic', really. You knew that it might as well been, what with all of the infinitesimal variables that the military scientists here nerd-gasm over, like interaction of marginal gravitational constants, Higgs-Boson particles, dark matter, neutrinos, sub-atomic black hole anomalies, or whatever scientifically obscure concepts that they can start pulling out of nowhere. But it was far, far easier just to put all the strangeness of Equestria under the all-telling title of Magic.
Because it really was by the mere sight of them. Or feel. Because that cloud bed imported from Los Pegasus really was magical. It just one of those things you have to touch to believe.
Dinky retorted at your laziness, ironically since you mostly do that to her, "It's 6:40. You weren't there in the morning to make us our breakfast! Or wake up Mom!"
You cursed under your breath (In English. There were fillies around, mind you) and gaped emptily at the alarm clock on the night stand next to you. Your limbs didn't respond to your mental commands to raise themselves from the floor.
It read 6:41 A.M. The alarm was suppose to go off for you at 5:00 A.M.
So what the hell went wrong?
You drowsily stood up and yawned, grasping the alarm clock with a spare hand and rising in height above the filly and the mare still cutely snoring in bed.
You mentally kick yourself in the gonads. You accidentally had set the alarm to 5:00 P.M., not A.M.
To make up for lost time, you rush with the speed of a drunk antelope, attempting to hop into the pant legs of your discarded jeans, towards your wonderful wife in bed, Ditzy Doo, and whisper gently to her,
"Honey, sorry, but I'm running a bit late right now. You need to wake up, sweetheart!"
The pegasus mare slowly opened her adorably cartoonish, golden-iris crossed eyes. She rose her head with the measure of grace that only an angel would have.
"Just five more minutes..." Ditzy drowsily returned. She nuzzled your fuzzy face (you liked to have a goatee on your person at all times. Just in case for goatee-related emergencies. And this wasn't one of those times) and drowsed back to sleep.
Well, that was good enough for you! Her word was motherbuckin' law in this house, and that included you. At least you tried and even got a nuzzle back! One would assume that you had let her off easily, that both partners of a marriage would need to make equal compromises. But she had the power that some humans back on Earth would kill to have: The ability of ultimate persuasion.
You could torture a person to do something, but (depending on the strength of the individual tortured) violent persuasion can be ignored and persevered through with a little practice...
Maybe some mental clenching....
Preparation that you yourself would pussy out of on the spot and beg to not be tortured...
But what does Ditzy have? Love, cuteness, the ability to make hearts implode with a bare twitch of her ear. It was one hundred and ten percent effective on any sapient being alive in forcing them to do her adorable bidding. Well, for you anyway. Maybe that's why she agreed to marry you...
Plus, you wanted to leave her alone to get some shut-eye. She got back home at 10 last night on an overnight mail route (You never heard of evening mailmares? Welcome to the insanity of the Pony world, where airships that could be used for mass mobility of the postal service are just used as tourist attractions.), and only had gotten 5 hours of sleep. She really deserved some rest.
Another thing to kick yourself for. Here you are, a somewhat intelligent human being (well, intelligent enough to realize that you had it better here in Equestria, than you ever had on Earth. Just to escape from the type and pacing of life there.), fully capable of taking care of Ditzy and her family, yet you depend on a (you hated to say it) 'specially-valued' member of Equine society to pay off your living expenses. You pleaded to Ditzy that she could have used ~~some~~ all of your paycheck, once converted into bits, to cover their living expenses and basically live the rest of both of your lives as debt-free members of society. But she wouldn't have any of it, even if she did accept a small amount to cover her mortgage.
You still haven't forgiven yourself for allowing this to happen. This was your mare you were talking about. Your very special somepony. You couldn't stand by relaxing while you have her do the dirty work! You swore an oath to look after each other and share each other's burdens (until sickness, death, or divorce destroys your marriage and scars you both mentally for life), and by Celestia, you were going to keep it!
And you tried in every way possible to help her. You became the official father/foal-sitter/agony aunt of her foals (who you painfully discovered were not her biological foals, but adoptions, an epiphany that explained how they were unicorn foals of a pegasus mother), packed their school lunches, prepared their meals, and when you weren't working, you gave Ditzy the occasional wing massage, or a small romantic escapade whenever she got back home (rose petals on the flooring, dinner for two, cuddling during movie night until one of them falls asleep in each other's arms. Ya know. The usual). It was all that you could do really, unless one of your 'family' is in need of an organ donor, to which you would gladly donate any of your organs. Even though Human and Equine anatomy aren't compatible in any way, you considered yourself dedicated enough to do at least that for them. They gave you everything, after all. Their food, a roof over your head, their love and support. It was the least you could do.
With that determination in mind, you marched down the hall and staircase of the lovely thatched-roof home, as it quite reminded you of certain Pennsylvanian-Dutch themes), tripped down the stairs while you got distracted by the qualities of the house, almost suffered a concussion from the graceful landing off of said stairs, and pushed your sleep-deprived body into the kitchen (Where all human males belong! Muahahaha!).
You instinctively pulled out two frying pans, some oil, 5 eggs out from the refrigerator, some of your special "sausages" (of the turkey variety, which you doubted very much was even turkey. More like a mixture of chicken and some fish, just so the foals...wouldn't give you a certain look of disgust), and some hay bacon. You heated up the stove, while using your icy-cold toes of one leg to open up the lower cabinets holding the lunchbags. You fished out two of the dull brown paper bags, and began to place an abundance of fruits and some vegetables that you as a human would prefer as "finger-food", like carrots sticks or celery. You placed two water bottles, a pair of juice boxes (You remembered distinctly that Sparkler preferred strongly grape, while Dinky loved apple), and pre-prepared apple butter and jelly sandwiches from the fridge that you had made the night earlier into the lunch bags, and rolled up the openings to both of them. You proceeded to, while flipping the sizzling eggs and hay bacon on one frying pan, and your sausages in another, label the lunch bags with marker of their respective owners. You prepare to set the table as you set the lunches on the counter above the fillies' saddlebags.
After a couple of minutes, without even realizing that you had done anything (your memory already blurring together your daily automatic routine) on the table appeared sets of plates, each containing fair portions of scrambled eggs and slightly burnt, but crispy hay bacon strips, and glasses filled to the brim with milk and orange juice. And apparently you decided to dish out the silverware, what with the sudden appearance of knives and forks that you had no memory of setting out. And you had no idea what happened to the cooked sausages.
Meh. You'd find them somewhere.
It was all routine (except for the Case of the Missing Turkey Links. It was still under an unresolved investigation by Detective You). All muscle memory. And so was the nightmare that was about to follow.
Down the hallway, the sound of a hoof pounding on a wooden door echoed, followed by a scream, "Sparkler, open the door! I need to use the bathroom!"
The mare inside replied, "You'll get to use it when I finish, Dinky. Why don't you get started on breakfast?"
"But you always use up all the hot wa-"
You approached Dinky, "Hey kiddo, what's going on?"
"Sparkler's being a flank-head, and she won't unlock the bathroom door so I could use it with her!"
You sigh. Here we go...
You say sternly, yet softly into the door, the millionth time that you've probably said it in your life, or more likely this year alone, "Sparkler, can you please open this door so your sister can use it with you?"
"No! Can't a mare have some privacy in this house?" Sparkler complained inside the lavatory.
Dinky Doo objected, giving you the puppy-dog eyes, "See what I mean? She gets so grouchy in the mornings. Dad...can't you use your awesome hands and rip the handle off or something?"
You chuckle instantly, but stop yourself. She was quite serious. You could tell that Ditzy's innocent, yet somehow unaware, sense of humor had been parroted by at least one of her fillies.
You respond warmly with an attempt at some humor, "I can't do that, Dinky. I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure foal-abuse isn't taken lightly by domestic courts anymore..."
Dinky Doo downcasts her eyes, and slowly decides to trot to the dining room in defeat. Oh come on! She didn't even laugh at your joke!
This just got serious.
You bite your lower lip. Feeling your morning becoming proportionally melancholy with your young filly's own sense of depression, you suddenly offer, "But wanna use mine and your mama's bathroom, instead? Like a grown-up pony? I'm sure that it's WAY better than that dumb, old 'filly's bathro-"
You're suddenly tackled by Dinky, screaming, "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou! You're the bestest dad ever!!!!"
The young filly, as swift as her emotional fluidity, ran off in the direction of the other bathroom, leaving you feel both loved, and bewildered.
She quickly returned, "Umm...dad?"
"Hmmmm?"
"I didn't get my-"
You coolly got up, dusted yourself, and walked up to the hallway cabinet, where you kept the spare toothbrushes. You ripped off the plastic and cardboard package of a blue foal's soft-bristle brush, and handed the oral tool to the young filly.
She gripped the brush with her teeth, and muffled, "Fhanks, dad!"
"No problem, kiddo," you sighed, and gave a tired smile as you watched her trot again down the hall. You got back into the kitchen to set up Ditzy's meal.
Upon your return to the kitchen, your stomach roared, demanding payment like the ungrateful landlord it is. But you forced yourself to calm down. The decision of removal and immediate curb-stomping (in that order) of one's stomach would sort of be quite akin to suicide in Equestria. As with any sane society in the existence of the universe.
Thus you continued your search for the turkey sausages, as you were pretty sure that you took them off the pan to cool. The last time you saw them were on the counter, where you also put the hay bacon at.
Therefore, by rules of deduction, the sausages were obviously by the hay bacon! You turned to the table, saliva gathering in your mouth at the delightful thought of your first taste of meat in months, until you were suddenly, and quite impudently, rescheduled to a seat on a 3 AM train from a railway company called 'Disappointment'. The dish containing the hay bacon...only contained hay bacon. Drats. Your stomach then begins to complain of the ineptitude of your detective skills.
You add 'Stomach' onto your Shit List, joining 'Brain', 'Nickelback', and 'Dell Tech Support' as a very non-prodigious placement of fourth on the list.
Giving up, you began the arduous process of grounding and brewing coffee beans imported from Saddle Arabia, which you found out costs an arm and a leg just to find some decently roasted beans. But, in retrospect, willingly becoming a quadriplegic would be a worthy sacrifice in order to enjoy the luxury of coffee, a drink that you were nearly addicted to back on Earth, with its rich aroma, bitter taste, and huge supply of temporary energy. Meanwhile, as you were somewhat of a multi-tasking workaholic, you retrieved some blueberry muffins from the fridge, cut off the giant top, covered the tops in butter, and fried them. You heavily knew that Ditzy loved muffins, and even more than that, baking them. So you decided to add a little variety to her breakfast. Just something to spice up the monotony of life here and there.
Then you smell the bold aroma of the magical (Yes, magical) caffeine-containing liquid sifting through the morning daze. You continued to douse yourself in its delicious trance as you finished heating the muffin tops and set them too on the table. You would have thought that you had something of a 'problem', but you cut yourself some slack. Because today was gonna drag you around in the mud and dirt, not counting what you'll have to do when the fillies get back from school.
One would think that translating is an easy job. As simple as tying one's shoes. But try listening to two opposing groups of ponies, or a group of ponies and humans, or worse, a group of ponies, griffins, and humans arguing back and forth, always interrupting, demanding their voices to be heard and tossed forwards and backwards for hours and hours on end, leaving you to summarize their thoughts in the kindest of terms while everyone, everpony, and everygriffin is three arguments ahead of your translation. And that's only for the small, local incidents. Let's just say you'll never enter a government council building ever again for the rest of your life.
You would have continued to daydream about the dark black drink, and the horrible premonitions of today's events, but a certainly special grey pegasi sluggishly trotted towards you, yawning, and interrupted your train of thought.
Ditzy Doo greeted you lovingly with a hug, feeling her breath melt your heart, "Good morning, muffin."
"And good morning to you!" You eagerly returned. Then you swear to yourself. The coffee.
She. Can't. See. The motherbucking coffee.
You attempt to cover the boiling kettle containing the bitter ambrosia, as you say, "Breakfast is ready, darling."
As Fate would have it, before Ditzy could say anything in response (or curiosity), Sparkler and Dinky hopped into the dining room and welcomed their mother. They then moved to the table to go eat.
You mentally swipe the sweat off your brow. That was close. You didn't want a repeat of last time.
And what did happen last time? Well, essentially, to make a long story short...you poisoned Ditzy Doo. On accident.
And to make the short story longer? One morning, back when you were utterly clueless of Pegasus anatomy (and how you hated yourself when you lightly brushed your hand in a hug with Ditzy Doo near the 'wingboner' area some day earlier), you had the exceedingly idiotic idea, without much thought, of giving Ditzy some of your coffee. The compassionate intent was there. She was tired all the time from having to work long enough to feed an extra mouth (A.K.A. You) even though you had your own pay that you were glad enough to offer her (Her refusal forced you to sneak in half of your paycheck converted into bits into her bit-pouch every month. You were stubborn like that, and she was going to have to accept that you, also, were responsible for her family now. And that you would gladly accept it). Turns out the caffeine in her system not only induced Ditzy to finish her mail-delivering quota...a week ahead, but also that the increase in heartbeat gave Ditzy something of a heart attack. You later found out that Pegasi circulatory organs, already high-strung from constant expectancy of activity, can't handle caffeine that well. You apologized to her many times, inside and outside of the hospital, much to what you considered her annoyance of having to say 'It's fine' to so many apologies, though she had no idea what you were talking about. Luckily (for you only) she didn't know about the caffeine. She decided the cause of her sudden illness was placing too much butter in her muffin batches. She almost died because of you. And you would never forget what had happened that day. Not until the day you died.
And the worst part? You didn't tell her it was you that caused it. You were afraid of what she would think. Of what she would see every time she saw you next to her. Of how she would consider you with hatred, instead of love and a measure of closeness. It was an accident. You didn't know.
But it was still your fault.
"Ewww! Dad! What were you trying to do?" Sparkler cried out, slashing apart your thoughts of guilt with her voice. She edged the interior of her cup containing orange juice, showing the tips of still-lukewarm turkey (and partially fish) sausages.
There they were...
Crap.
"Sorry, Sparkler," you winced in apology. You quickly took the cup from her, dumped the contaminated juice, fished out your meal portion of protein (You never liked the eggs from here), and gave Sparkler a new glass.
"Here ya go-"
Sparkler gave you an odd look. There was a mix of anger, and some strange resemblance to alienated fear. She was...somewhat less accepting of you as a suitor to her mom, but you couldn't blame her. How would anyone really react if an alien appeared out of the blue, became a tenant of your home (which was part of an area that was officially a portion of the Human FOB in Equine territory), and basically hit on your mother. You wouldn't take it too well, would you?
You give her a sad smile in an attempt to disarm the situation, but it failed. You didn't feel the least bit happy for the rest of breakfast.
When the family finished, and the fillies gathered up their saddlebags for school, you helped acquire the last requests of Ditzy's foals (like changes of food selection for their lunch and such. Turns out Sparkler actually hates grape juice).
Dinky eagerly awaited her journey to school, and while Sparkler was still getting ready, she trotted forward to the front door and hopped about, waiting for the slow grown-ups to catch up to her pace of preparation.
You caught her smile, and smirked back. She still loved you, even though you woke up late.
Sparkler stared at you, mid-wake of the signaling between the ends of the house.
"Did you really do that on purpose? You know...because of how I acted in the morning today?" Sparkler asked all of a sudden.
You turned to her. "What makes you say that? And by the way, the whole 'placing-meat-in-your-drink' thing? It was an honest to Celestia accident. I swear it. I need to start paying attention more..."
"You always seemed to distance yourself away from me, even after you and Mom got hitched, so to speak," Sparkler lamented.
"Funny," you sadly chuckled. "I always thought you hated me."
"You never gave me as much attention to me as you've done to Dinky."
You considered the notion. You did have a habit of being less friendly to Sparkler, albeit your actual acceptance of everypony in the family as your own.
"Well... she's still a filly. Dinky needs somepony to watch out for her as she grows."
Sparkler questioned, "And what about me? Did you really ignore me that much because I was a little wary of you?"
You sighed. Hopefully you didn't screw this up.
"Sparkler. You're almost a full-grown mare. If I haven't made this clear enough, then buck me in the face, right here, right now. Because I probably deserve it."
You inhale deeply, preparing yourself for whatever response you were going to get.
"I love you, Dinky, and your mother very much. Don't think I have favorites, because I really do not. Don't think that I'm the evil step-father that has the sole purpose of ruining your life. I'm just...trying to adapt to this as much as possible. I'm here for you, always. You should know this by now. How many times have I helped you in a jam, so far?" you chuckled at your own joke.
"None. I've been the one helping you." That stopped all laughter from you.
You continued, "Well...if you need anything, just tell me. Please. And if I don't listen, break a few of my limbs. I deserve it. Alright?"
Sparkler nodded.
"Look, I'm sorry for any misunderstandings we've had... and that I was the one to probably cause them all, but can we start over? I'm sorry for neglecting you in the past. You were a teenager, and teenagers always need their space. But don't ever think that you're isolated in society or in Life even. Because...you know. I'm the only human in this town, so I should know a little something about isolation," you smile, earning you, finally, a grin from her.
You hold out your hand, confidently pressing for a more agreeable future. And she accepted with a warm hoof-bump.
The both of you followed Dinky to the door, and as you opened it, you say to Sparkler,
"Umm...this isn't a bad time to ask for another favor is it?" you ask.
Sparkler smirked comedically. "Why do you ask, Dad?"
Huh, she actually said it with feeling. Nice progression there.
You immediately retort, "Look out for Dinky. Please. I know, I should be doing this myself, but the workload I have this week...month....year is insane, along with your mother's. So-"
Sparkler held up a hoof to signal you the cease of your request. "I know. I always do."
You warmly smile as you hug her. "Stay safe, alright?"
Sparkler said, "I should say the same to you. Remember when you got shot in the-"
"Goodbye, Sparkler! Goodbye Dinky!" you interrupted, followed by the breaking of the hug. Sparkler laughed at your social uncomfortableness, and as she walked towards her sister down the road to school, she turned her head and stuck out her tongue in an act of rebellion.
You waved back, and slowly shut the door. You head back into the kitchen where the two greatest things in the world waited:
Ditzy Doo.
And coffee. Exactly in that order also.
And when you entered the room, you saw her sniffing at wonder in the air. The bold aroma.
The coffee boiling in the kettle.
Ditzy questioned, "Do you know what that smell is?"
"Uh..." You shifted your body in front of the stove top. You tried your best to avoid all subjects about the caffeine-infused drink, and to hide the beans strategically around the house where you would know no pony could ever find them. Ever since that incident, you treated it like poison, but on days like these, it was more of a blessing than a curse.
Your dear Ditzy Doo floated up to your eye level, and sadly looked at you, and tried to sneak a peek at whatever was behind you.
"Are you keeping something from me?"
You slowly let out a sigh. You had to tell her.
You steadily set the cup down in front of her. You finally found some old de-caf instant coffee packets somewhere from all your old gear. Back when you first arrived. Ditzy took a careful sip.
"...Look, I'm sorry about lying to you," you began to plead. "I know that sometimes you get so tired that you need something...extra in your life. But...I never wanted a repeat of last time."
"It's fine," Ditzy softly replied. "I didn't even need it for the energy boost!"
"Then, what did you want to take it for?" you asked in an exasperated manner, your curiosity piqued. One doesn't just create havoc in a household over very limited supplies of brewable beans for...nothing.
"I only asked for it because the taste and smell of coffee... reminds me of you." She said, gesturing at the de-caf sample in front of her.
You stare at her. "Okay..."
Ditzy struggled, "No, let me explain. You always had that smell on you when you first came here. Whenever I saw you, you had the scent of coffee on your clothes or your breath. And even after everything that happened, you know, with the caffiene incident..."
You remind yourself that you need to actually start physically kicking yourself, not just mentally threatening yourself with empty promises.
"...I haven't grown tired of it. It reminds me of you always. My special somepony. And it reminds whenever I smell it roasting in the air, where ever I am, that you'll always be there for me. Forever and ever," Ditzy innocently smiled.
You were...astounded to say the least. Your relationship with Ditzy Doo, though you loved her very much, had never really reached the 'lovey-dovey, cheesy sentiment' phase. She would say the silliest things sometimes that were just adorable, but she never exactly expressed her feelings in a deep, philosophical manner like now.
And she did something next that completely surprised you.
In mid-air, she grasped your head with her forehooves and pressed her chops onto your lips, instinctively giving a light suction.
She kissed you.
She quickly withdrew, a faint result of embarrassment of the sanguine blush variety spreading across her cheeks, and blurted to you, "I'll try to get home early this time. Have a good day, muffin!"
She rushed out the door, already extremely late, and began her day of sorting and delivering packages from an impersonal manifest.
As the door slammed shut lightly, you found yourself alone in the house, frozen in your tracks by that act of passion from your dear Ditzy Doo.
You found yourself repeating in your mind that she kissed you. She kissed you, her taste still lingering in your mouth, tinged with details of her breakfast. You had no words to describe your shock...and happiness.
She hadn't done that since your wedding day. Ponies aren't big on kissing. Instead, nuzzling and basic foaling around were their forms of physical endearment. Things that humans would always...want to take to the next level, and basically do things that wouldn't normally go on between an evolved primate and equine. Or at least anything legal in most countries back on Earth.
Yes, that was a big issue. Sexual gratification. Intercourse. Copulation with other species. Just...whatever. Funny thing was that you never talked to Ditzy about it, even during consideration of marriage. It was always taboo around Equestria, really. And you got the feeling that she would never look at you the same way ever again if you really told her what you, at first, wanted to do with her. Those moments of infatuation in which your mind begins to flutter away in thoughts and dreams, whether you personally want to see them or not, made you nervous around her. Like you feared that she could look into your mind, or your dreams. And see the primal horror that lied within.
But now, after everything, you never really had that sexual urge anymore. Sure you participated in some 'tummy wubs' or raspberries to the stomach, but anything past those in romantic intensity never happened. You made sure they never did. She knew what you think of her, and what she thinks of you, so what's the point really? Whenever you were near her, you feel everything around you melting away. Everything you were, and once was, your needs and wants, was nevermore for the moment. You feel as though you two were alone in your own bubble dimension, away from everything in the universe. Isn't that the point of a relationship? To find happiness, not just to shag everything that lives and breathes, as one's primal instinct dictates? Or at least indirectly suggests...you don't feel like shifting your mood to the Freudian side of things today.
So you could say kissing was rarely done in Pony relationships, but the sheer rarity of it made it the most intimate rituals of a courtship.
And you knew it. You suddenly felt...motivated. Stronger. More powerful than anything in the world.
Like you could single-handedly rotate the version of Earth you were currently living on, or maybe even takeover Celestia's day job of rising and setting the star that the planet revolved around.
And better yet, you felt ready for whatever the day could throw at you.
All because of that beautiful, endearing mare. Ditzy Doo, who accepts you no matter what mistakes you've done in the past.
