Chapters Mutual Assured Destruction (RariDash)
“Friends and Lovers”
by Donny’s Boy
Synopsis: A series of mini-stories exploring various pony ships. Because shipping is magic.
“Mutual Assured Destruction” (RariDash)
It was Tuesday, and Tuesday invariably meant three things. Tuesday meant spa day. Tuesday meant library day. And Tuesday meant a long, slow burn that would eventually end in an explosion.
That particular Tuesday evening, the pegasus flew quickly and silently through the moonless sky, thankful for the cover of clouds and the resulting darkness. She reached her destination in record time and, after one last glance around, crept up to the front door. The door was unlocked, as she knew it would be. The door was always unlocked on Tuesdays. Without bothering to knock, she nudged the door open and stepped into the boutique.
It was as dark inside as it was outside, but she could hear soft hoofsteps approaching. A moment later, there was a pair of lips on hers, hard, insistent, urgent. Rainbow Dash met the kiss with every ounce as much urgency, and she shoved the unicorn backwards.
They landed on the little chaise longue that Rarity liked so much, with the pegasus on top, pinning Rarity with the full weight of her body even as their kiss continued unbroken. Desperate heat tore through Dash like the winds of a tornado as Rarity’s hooves began running through the feathers of her spread wings. When Rainbow responded by nipping the unicorn’s ear, Rarity moaned in a voice that was low and deep and nothing at all like the voice she allowed herself to use in public.
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For the briefest moment, she was confused when she awoke to a pair of bright blue eyes. Her first thought was of Pinkie Pie, because sometimes she slept over at Sugar Cube Corner after an evening of partying particularly hard, but she didn’t feel hung over as she usually would when waking up at the bakery. Then, she abruptly recognized just where she was.
It wasn’t Sugar Cube Corner.
“You fell asleep last night,” the unicorn murmured softly.
There had been wine. That much, she remembered. Good wine, too, imported directly from some fancy vineyard located in Canterlot. Not that Rainbow Dash knew much about wine--and, besides, after the first several glasses, she couldn’t really taste anything anyways. But she’d liked the wine. She remembered liking the wine.
Just one glass of wine, Rarity had suggested. Just one glass of wine, shared as a thank you gesture, for all the help Dash had given that afternoon on Rarity’s latest project. The dress had been created for a pegasus, Rarity had explained, and the designer had wanted to ensure it would fit perfectly. It had to fit perfectly, she’d explained, eyes serious and intense.
There had been something else in the unicorn’s eyes, too, something that Rainbow couldn’t quite remember now. Something sad, perhaps. That was how it had all started, probably. Rarity had probably looked sad, and Rainbow had probably stayed past the end of that first glass of wine in order to help cheer up her friend. But Rainbow couldn’t remember if there had been a particular reason why Rarity might have looked sad.
In the present moment, in the harsh light of morning, Rarity didn’t look sad. The unicorn’s face was perfectly blank and utterly devoid of any identifiable emotion whatsoever, in fact, as she stared hard at Rainbow Dash. The pegasus realized that she was still lying in the unicorn’s huge, plush bed, and she flushed in embarrassment.
“Sorry! Um, sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She leapt out of the bed, stumbling, awkward, her wings already snapping out in preparation of imminent flight. “I’ll just, uh, just get out of your mane here. Thanks again for the wine--it was good stuff.”
Rarity just sat there and watched, silent and aloof. As there really wasn’t anything else to be said, Dash turned around and took to the air, rocketing through an open window in the boutique. She didn’t look back.
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Sometimes, you just wanted to stop having to be so perfectly loyal all the time.
I shouldn’t be doing this, thought Dash, even as she buried her face deeper in Rarity’s mane. I’m not in love with her. She rubbed her cheek lightly against the unicorn’s horn, and it was a gesture of tender affection more than anything else. In the dark, she couldn’t see the pony beneath her, and it was all too easy to play pretend. To pretend that this horn belonged to somepony else, somepony too brilliant and too intimidating and too unreachable to ever be touched like this.
She remembered. Despite trying not to, despite trying to lose herself in the roar of the blood pumping through her veins like a raging flood, she remembered.
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She’d asked if they could meet for lunch, just the two of them, and like the fool she was, Rainbow Dash had thought it was a date. The pegasus didn’t dress up or anything like that, but she did shower that morning and she did take the time to actually run a brush through her mane and tail.
They’d ordered daffodil sandwiches. Dash didn’t know why she remembered that, but she did. The sandwiches were good, and so was the company. For a bit, they indulged in a bit of idle chit-chat about the continuing adventures of Daring-Do. Rainbow grinned as they tentatively stepped onto this newly-discovered common ground, as both their eyes lit up while they traded speculations as to who the adventurous hero’s next villain might be, as they argued cheerfully over which book was the best in the series. It was simple, and it was silly. And it was perfect.
Then, the mood suddenly shifted, and a hush fell over their little table.
“Rainbow, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s why I asked you to have lunch with me, actually.”
Rainbow Dash felt her pulse quicken.
“I kinda … I kinda have a crush on somepony. Oh, wow, this is harder than I thought. Um, I have a crush on ...”
She dared not move or speak.
“ … a crush on … on Fluttershy. Whew! You don’t know how good it feels to just finally say it.”
The pegasus blinked, very slowly, very deliberately, and tried to remember how to breathe.
“Do you, uh, do you think I have a chance, Rainbow?” Her violet eyes were painfully earnest, almost naive. So piercing, so scarily intelligent, so … so trusting . “You’re her oldest friend, I mean, so I figured if anypony would know …”
Dash could’ve lied. Should’ve lied, maybe. But that would have been selfish, more selfish than even Dash usually was. Besides, it wouldn’t have been something a good friend would do. And despite occasional appearances to the contrary, Rainbow Dash was a good friend.
“I dunno if she likes you likes you, but she thinks you’re pretty awesome,” the pegasus admitted. Her voice sounded like gravel to her own ears. “You should … you should totally ask her out. Totally.”
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Sometimes, you just wanted to stop having to be so perfectly generous all the time.
I shouldn’t be doing this, thought Rarity, even as the pegasus’ teeth scraped roughly against her neck, drawing a gasp of pleasure from somewhere deep inside her. I’m not in love with her. But this felt too good, too necessary, for her to dwell on that thought for too terribly long. It was self-indulgent, perhaps, but she always had been a pony who believed in indulgences.
She lifted her chin, to allow her lover easier access, and continued running her hooves along Dash’s wings. As she concentrated on the feel of those strange, silky feathers under her hooves, she allowed her thoughts to drift to fond remembrances of other wings, wings as delicate and beautiful and majestic as the sun.
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“For me? This is … for me?”
“Well, of course!” Rarity laughed easily, a high, tinkling laugh. “You do want to look good for your big date tonight, don’t you, darling?”
The pegasus ran a gentle hoof along the hem of the elegant teal dress on the mannequin, seemingly in a daze. When she finally looked up, a tremulous smile was spreading across her face.
“Oh, thank you, Rarity! Thank you so, so much.” Her eyes shone with gratitude, wide and sincere, and the unicorn felt a bittersweet pang in her chest.
Rarity had never known anyone who was as thankful as was the pegasus who now stood before her. Who so deeply and consistently appreciated all that she was given. The unicorn didn’t give all that she did in order to receive any thanks, of course, but she had to admit that she cherished the thanks she did receive--especially the thanks she received from this, her dearest and most beloved friend.
At Rarity’s urging, the pegasus changed into her new garment so that the designer could exclaim over how it looked on her and, once dressed, she did a bashful twirl. The dress’ long skirt flared out in a most enchanting way, and the blue-tinged greens in the dress perfectly matched the eyes of the dress’ new owner, just as Rarity had intended. And the sunlight streaming from the boutique windows lent both the dress and the pegasus a lovely, almost ethereal glow.
“So, um, how do I look? Is it … do I look okay?” She sounded nervous, even more nervous than she did usually, and was lightly pawing at the ground with a hoof.
Rarity’s smile never faltered, never slipped. After all, a lady never held her mask so far away that she couldn’t quickly raise it to her face when the need arose. “You look absolutely beautiful,” the unicorn replied, very quietly.
Her voice shook only a little.
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It was a terrible idea, all of this, and it had been from the very start. But, sometimes, you just wanted to take something for yourself. Sometimes, you just wanted to lay down your burdens for a few precious minutes, and sometimes you just wanted to be selfish for a change. Even if you knew that you’d have to pay dearly for it later.
Because all those costs wouldn’t come until tomorrow. Tomorrow they would wake up sick and ashamed and with their chests as aching and empty as they had been the day before. Tomorrow they would part without a word and without a single glance back, with unspoken promises that they’d never repeat this again, promises they both knew they would never be able to keep.
But tonight? Tonight they had each other and, hidden from sight of the rest of the world, they abandoned all of the complications of their daytime lives and embraced the simple pleasures of the nighttime. Tonight, they self-destructed in ecstasy. Tonight, they self-destructed in agony.
Author’s Notes: Very loosely inspired by, and written while listening to, “Tear You Apart” by She Wants Revenge. (The song is very NSFW, by the way, if you’re interested in looking it up.)
Rewrite 2/7: Hopefully this addresses some of the issues that this piece had.
Unforgivably Corny (RariJack)
“Unforgivably Corny” (RariJack)
The main problem wasn’t that Applejack lacked the status of nobility, or that she was the least etiquette-aware pony Rarity had ever met, or even that they were both mares. The main problem, as far as Rarity was concerned, was that it was all so unforgivably corny.
The aloof, disdainful beauty … the strong, handsome farmhand ...
She had an entire bookshelf filled with this particular story, or stories near enough to it, and while they were all a torridly delightful good time, they were also all quite cliche. That her own heart would deign to follow suit and delve into such common, mass-market feelings?
Unexpected. Unfathomable. Unacceptable.
Applejack’s voice suddenly intruded on her thoughts: “You all right there, Rarity? Yer lookin’ kinda pale. I mean, paler than usual for a unicorn who’s white.”
In response, Rarity glared her very best glare. There that apple-bucking pony went again, acting so concerned and charmingly solicitous, all but begging Rarity to adore her. It was unfair, that’s what it was. Terribly, terribly unfair.
“I am fine ,” the unicorn replied, her tone the slightest bit frosty. “And it is the height of rudeness to comment negatively on a lady’s appearance, might I add.”
Applejack just rolled her eyes. “Well, ‘scuse me for carin’ about how yer doin’. My mistake, I reckon.”
And with that, the farmer shrugged, turned away, and ambled off in the general direction of the snack table. Rarity refused to watch the other pony leave, on principle. She wasn’t clear on just what that principle might be, exactly, but she was fairly certain there was some important principle or another at play here. Instead of looking at that troublesome orange pony, she took the opportunity to glance around the festively-decorated confines of Sugar Cube Corner.
If she was being honest--which she didn’t generally like to do, as honesty was a quality that belonged to ponies whose names she was stubbornly refusing to recollect--Rarity would have to admit that she hadn’t bothered to remember the occasion for this particular party. Although, really, the specific purpose behind any given party never seemed to matter much anyways. Pinkie’s parties were all more or less the same … which wasn’t a bad thing, as they were all equally lovely affairs.
And indeed this was a lovely party. Over by the phonograph, Fluttershy and Twilight were talking quietly but cheerfully with one another, while Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie were dominating the area that had been set aside as a dance floor, engaging in a series of energetic, jerky movements that Rarity could only guess were meant to be dance steps. All in all, it was a very convivial atmosphere, and if it wasn’t for the distracting presence of a certain apple-loving earth pony, Rarity would be enjoying herself immensely.
A soft cough brought the unicorn out of her reverie.
She blinked and noticed that Applejack had returned at some point and was now standing directly in front of her, with a glass of punch held in her mouth. The farm pony’s gaze kept shifting from the cup to Rarity and back again and, after a few confused seconds, Rarity finally realized what Applejack wanted. With a delicate tendril of magic, the unicorn took the punch from her friend’s grasp.
Applejack snorted as soon as she was free of the glass. “Sure took ya long enough to cotton on,” she complained, but there was no heat behind her words, no real anger. A touch of amused annoyance, if anything. Maybe a hint of affection.
Rarity decided to ignore all that. Instead, she asked, “What is this for, pray tell?”
“Figured ya could use somethin’ to wet yer whistle.” Applejack’s honest green eyes held nothing but friendliness and caring. It was awful. “Ya might be a bit dehydrated, and that’s why yer lookin’ under the weather.”
Lifting the glass up to her lips, Rarity took a sip. Doing so bought her time to think, time in which she didn’t have to say anything, time she rather desperately needed. Because once again her heart was racing, her face was flushing, her stomach was doing flip-flops, and all of it was unladylike in the extreme.
Rarity took a second sip of punch and then a third. When she finally lowered the glass, she quietly said, “Thank you, Applejack.”
The earth pony grinned and looked smugly, infuriatingly pleased with herself.
And it was then, of course--of course it was then --that she suddenly wanted to kiss Applejack. But although she very badly wanted to do so, she didn’t. She couldn’t. Because doing so would have been unforgivably corny.
Fan Girls (Rainbow Dash x ?)
“Fan Girls”
The author known to her legions of devoted fans as Bravery Luckwing sighed as she stared down at the letter laid out on the desk before her. It wasn’t the missive itself that caused her to sigh--the letter was a very nice letter, actually, full of absolutely glowing praise for her Daring-Do novels--and it also wasn’t the request to meet in person or even the rather bold invitation to take Bravery out to dinner sometime.
No, none of that is what led her to sigh so deeply and with such despair. What caused her to sigh was the letter’s signature: Your biggest fan, Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow Dash.
Somehow, all of the more significant problems in her life could be traced back to a pony named Rainbow Dash. Not that the brash young pegasus ever meant to cause any troubles, of course, and not that Bravery ever blamed Rainbow. But the pegasus was the ultimate source of Bravery’s strife, all the same.
Just seeing that signature, written in Rainbow’s unmistakably clumsy scrawl, triggered an entire cascade of memories and emotions. She remembered happy times, days spent basking in the warmth of Rainbow Dash’s company and days spent delighting in the quickness and surety that resided in Dash’s every thought, every movement, every breath. And she remembered less happy times, nights spent dreaming about that dangerous spark in Dash’s eyes or the nonchalant way she’d toss her beautiful, shaggy mane. Nights where Bravery would wake up trembling with a coldness that lived deep down inside her and wouldn’t go away no matter how much hot tea she’d drink or how many thick blankets she’d huddle under.
Stepping away from her desk, Bravery began pacing anxiously in her small bedroom. Thinking about Rainbow Dash for too long always set her on edge, but today’s letter proved especially upsetting. How many times had she wanted Rainbow Dash to say words like these to her? How many times had she’d hoped, in that silly, foolish way, for Rainbow Dash to ask her out to dinner, just the two of them?
Too many times. Far, far too many times.
Be careful what you wish for, she thought morosely, staring out her opened window at the birds who sat in the trees just outside, singing ever so cheerfully. Because you just might get it.
She closed the window before returning to her desk and rereading the letter. She couldn’t stop herself from poring over one specific paragraph in Rainbow’s letter, going over the words again and again and again:
I would love to meet you someday. I bet somepony like you, somepony who’s written all of these amazing stories, must be really brave and have had a lot of adventures of her own. I bet you’re just like Daring-Do.
She would have laughed at that last sentence in particular, at the rich irony of it all--and as a writer, she couldn’t help but appreciate irony, even now, even this--except for the fact that those words caused a peculiar ache to seep down into her very bones. Rainbow Dash thought herself in love with the pony who’d written all those Daring-Do books but, in truth, Dash was in love with Daring-Do herself.
The problem was ... Daring-Do was a fictional character. Daring-Do wasn’t real.
Well, no. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. Daring-Do was real, in her own way. There was a real-life basis for the fearless adventurer, anyways, a flesh and blood pony who’d provided Bravery with a template in creating her now-famous heroine. But that pony was one with whom Rainbow Dash was already very well acquainted. And she was a pony who most definitely was not Bravery Luckwing.
Of course, just as Daring-Do wasn’t entirely real, neither was Daring-Do’s author. She hadn’t been born with the name Bravery Luckwing, at any rate--that was the name that her publishing house had rather forcefully suggested as a pseudonym. After all, her publishers had reasoned, who would ever buy a swash-buckling adventure novel written by a pony named Fluttershy?
Nobody, that’s who. Absolutely nobody.
Stifling yet another sigh, the author sat down at her desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. She paused for a moment, attempting to compose herself and her emotions, before she took quill in mouth. Then, she carefully began drafting her reply:
Dear Rainbow Dash, Thank you for taking the time to write to me and for sharing your praise for my novels. I always enjoy hearing from my readers. Although it is very kind of you to invite me out to dinner, I am afraid I must regretfully decline ...
“Reaffirmations” (TwiDash)
Groggily I force open my eyes. There’s very little light where I am, but even so, what light there is burns my poor, sensitive retinas. Almost immediately my head starts throbbing, too. I’m tempted to shut my eyes again, but instead I take a careful look around and try to orient myself--which is a bit difficult to do as everything around me is covered in darkness and shadow.
There is dirt. I can see that much. Dirt and rocks and walls made of craggy, forbidding stone. Last but not least, there is a solitary pony nearby, sitting on her haunches and staring directly at me. As soon as she notices me moving, she frowns.
I frown right back. Licking my dry lips, I croak out, “Who are--”
“Rainbow Dash.”
“What?”
“It’s my name.” She sighs deeply, and the sudden gust of air causes the bangs of her multi-colored mane to flutter. “My name is Rainbow Dash.”
“Oh.” I blink at her and feel confused. “And where--”
“In a cave. Entrance is blocked by a few tons of rocks. I’d try to Rainboom us out, but that would probably just bring the whole roof down on top of our heads. So for now, we’re trapped.”
“How do you--”
“How do I know what you’re going to ask?” She smiles, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It looks almost sad. “Because you’re as predictable as the Apples running out of cider on the first day of cider season, that’s how. You ask the exact same questions, in the exact same order. Every single time.”
I stare at her, pondering this over, but I can’t make sense of anything she’s just said. “I don’t understand,” I finally tell her.
“I know.” She ambles over and settles down beside me. As she does so, her shoulder brushes against mine. Her fur feels warm, and for the first time I notice just how cold it is in this cave. “Do you remember your name?”
I snort at that. What a ridiculous question to ask. I open my mouth to toss off a sarcastic retort, something about how silly this pony is acting, but then I freeze.
Panic rises in my chest. I can’t hear anything besides my own breathing, which sounds harsh and loud in this small, confined space. I’m hyperventilating or close to it. I try to breathe through my mouth, to calm myself down, but it doesn’t really work.
Then something lightly touches my back, and I give a little jump. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the pony has wrapped one of her wings around me. I turn to face her.
“It’s going to be okay,” she says, her eyes bright and sincere. “We’re gonna get out of this cave soon, and when we do, we’ll go find a doctor. Then we’ll get you all fixed up. I promise.”
Very quietly, I confess to her that I cannot remember my name.
“It’s Twilight. Twilight Sparkle.”
Absentmindedly I nod, as I silently repeat the name to myself. Twilight. Twilight Sparkle. I feel a vague prick at the back of my mind, as though that name should resonate with me but doesn’t quite do so. I make an effort to swallow down my panic, which tastes bitter and bilious in my throat, as I try not to think of all the things I apparently don’t know and can’t remember.
I don’t like not knowing things.
Feeling sleepy again, I lean my head against Rainbow Dash’s shoulder. In turn, she rests her chin on top of my head. It feels nice. Warm, cozy, oddly familiar. I almost start relaxing--until abruptly I catch myself. What am I doing, cuddling up to this strange pony? How do I know that she’s not the reason I can’t remember anything?
My entire body goes rigid as icy fear floods my veins.
Rainbow Dash sighs again, very softly this time. “Right about now is when you usually start wondering just who in Equestria I am and whether you can trust me or not.”
It’s too much to handle, everything, all of it, and I jerk back. Reaching out with both forelegs, I roughly shove the other pony away. “I’m probably wondering that because it’s a really good question! How do I even know that you’re who you say you are? Maybe you’re my enemy! Maybe you’re a spy! ”
I expect her to get angry at this point, to shout or yell or perhaps even shove me back. But she doesn’t do any of that. She just starts laughing.
It makes me furious. Here I am, utterly vulnerable, without any memories, completely at her mercy … how dare this pony laugh at me like this! I decide that I’m done here--done with her --and jump to my feet. I have no idea where I’ll go, but that doesn’t matter. All I know is that I can’t stay.
Jumping to my feet so quickly was a terrible, terrible idea, however. Immediately I feel dizzy, and the pain that’s been steadily throbbing in my head intensifies to such an extent that little sparks of light start exploding in front of my eyes. My stomach gives a lurch and, falling to my knees, I begin violently retching all over the cave’s floor.
As I’m doing so, I can feel a pair of hooves touch my mane and gently pull my hair back from my face.
It feels as though that I’m sick for hours, but it’s probably only a minute or two in actuality. Once I’ve finally finished, Rainbow Dash wraps her forelegs around me and pulls me close against her. I don’t resist. I feel too weak to do so, too drained, even if I wanted to fight her off. And, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure I do want to resist.
She’s warm, at least. And the cave is still so very cold.
I bury my face against her muscular chest. She smells like earth and sweat and rain. “What happened to me?” I whisper hoarsely, my throat raw from all the vomiting.
“When everything started caving in, you got hit in the head with some pretty big rocks,” she explains. With my face pressed against her chest, I can hear her heart beating, strong and steady and sure. “I wasn’t fast enough to get you outta the way of all of the rocks. This is … this is totally all my fault, Twilight. I’m sorry."
“It’s not your fault.”
She snorts. “And how would you know that? You can’t even remember your own name.”
“I just do!” And I do. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but nothing can shake my firm belief that she isn’t to blame.
“I guess. If you say so.”
I shut my eyes again. The cave, dark as it may be, is still too bright. The light hurts. “Sorry I made those accusations against you,” I mumble, yawning. She is so warm . “Just … feel really confused, is all. Kinda scared.”
Just as I begin drifting into sleep, she gives my shoulders a brusque shake, and my eyes snap back open. She’s looking down at me with an incredibly worried expression on her face. “Don’t go to sleep, okay? You gotta stay awake.”
“Hard to keep my eyes open. It’s too bright in here.”
“I know. But you still gotta stay awake, ‘cause Fluttershy says that with a head injury, you gotta make sure--” She cuts herself off. Takes a deep breath. Then, her eyes light up, and she grins. “Hey, how about I tell you a story? You like stories.”
I cock my head, intrigued. I do like the idea of hearing a story, I have to admit, and I wonder what sorts of stories Rainbow Dash might know. Without quite realizing what I’m going to say, I find myself blurting out, “Tell me the story of how we met.”
And so she does. She spins a long, convoluted fable about magical princesses and mares who live on the moon, about old castle ruins and magic necklaces with powers beyond all imagination. She speaks of so many different places, some fantastical and some mundane. Of apple farms and fashion boutiques, bakeries and menageries, and evil forests where all sorts of monsters lurk and prowl. Even though I still feel more than a bit sleepy, I don’t nod off even once while she’s recounting all of these adventures.
When she finishes her tale, a silence settles between the two of us.
“That is the most preposterous story ever,” I tell her, attempting to stifle a giggle and failing rather miserably.
“Yeah?” She begins chuckling too. “Yeah, I guess it kinda is, when you think about it.”
“So how did we really meet?”
She rests her chin on top of my head again and gives my mane a brief nuzzle. “You, uh, gave me tutoring lessons back when we were in school. ‘Cause you’re really, really smart and a total egghead. And me ... well, I guess I’ve always just been a dumb jock.”
I reach out with a hoof and wrap one of my legs around her waist, hugging her tightly. “I don’t think you’re dumb,” I state firmly, with a certainty that surprises and baffles me.
“Heh. Thanks.”
More silence.
From somewhere not too far away I can hear the steady dripping of water, and it echoes eerily off the cave’s walls. My eyelids start to grow heavy, and I worry that I’m about to fall asleep again. I don’t want to fall asleep. Rainbow Dash seems to think it’s important for me to stay awake, and I hate the thought of disappointing her.
So I decide to start a new conversation. Talking seems to help keep the grogginess at bay. “You said something earlier, about me always asking the same questions. Does that … does that mean I keep forgetting, and you keep telling me all of these things? That we’ve done all this before?”
She doesn’t respond at first and, when she finally does, her voice is barely above a whisper. “Yeah. We have.”
I mull that over and, as I do, something occurs to me. A chill runs down the length of my back. “Rainbow Dash. Just how long have we been in this cave?”
“I dunno exactly. It’s hard to tell time in here. Two or three days, maybe?”
Days?
Gasping, I lean back far enough that I can look into her face. “You can’t stay here! You have to leave, you have to find water and food, you have to--”
“No way!” Her deep, rose-hued eyes burn with a fury that I haven’t yet seen, and any protest I might have offered crumbles to dust in my mouth. “I am not leaving you, Twilight, so don’t even think of suggesting it!”
And it’s right then, as I’m breathless and shaking from the sheer intensity of her glare, that I realize. All at once it hits me, like a bolt of lightning from the blue.
“We’re … we’re more than just friends. Aren’t we, Rainbow Dash?”
She doesn’t say anything in reply, but the expression on her face is all the confirmation I need.
I can feel my heart thundering in my chest. Can hear the rush of blood whistling through my ears. Tentatively I move a bit closer and press my cheek against hers. “Thank you. For not leaving me. And--and--and for being patient with me, even though I can’t remember anything.”
“Always.” Her voice is low, gruff, almost a growl. “Always. ”
Before I can respond further, an explosion rips through the cave, sending strong shudders along the ground and a shower of small pebbles raining down from above. Instantly Rainbow Dash is pushing me to the cave floor, lying down on top of me, using her body as a shield. After seeming ages, the rumbling subsides. All is quiet and still once again.
Slowly Rainbow Dash stands back up, and I lift my head once she’s no longer atop me. In a somewhat shaky voice I ask her, “What was that?”
“Dunno yet.” She’s not looking at me. Instead she’s staring off down a long passageway, her stance edgy, tense. Her wings are spread out, as though she wants to be ready to take off on a split second’s notice.
From somewhere far away in the cave comes a cacophony of voices, distant and indistinct. Rainbow Dash doesn’t move a single muscle. But as the voices draw nearer, we can begin to make out the words that are being shouted in our direction.
“Dashie? Twilight?”
“Twi! RD! Are y’all okay in there? Say somethin’!”
“Darlings! Can you hear us?”
Rainbow Dash’s shoulders and wings both noticeably relax. Turning back around, she gives me a smile. It’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen--and I feel pretty sure that would be true even if I did have all my memories.
“Who are they, Rainbow Dash?” I gaze at her with wide, open eyes. “What’s going on?”
“They’re the cavalry,” she cryptically replies, still grinning. “And everything’s gonna be okay. Just like I promised.”
===============================================================================================Author’s Notes: We are four chapters in, and I have not written a single one of these that ships Pinkie with somepony. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.
Putting Things Right (ApplePie)
“Putting Things Right” (ApplePie)
Applejack knew, as surely as she knew that apples were the most noble of all fruits, that she was going to die. It was not a question of if but a question of when .
Still, she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She was an Apple, after all, and Apples did not go gently into that good night. No, no, no. Quite the contrary. Apples went kicking and screaming into that good night.
So it was that she skulked across the Sweet Apple Acres orchards, glancing over her shoulder every few minutes as she bucked trees. She braced herself for impact whenever she took her cart full of apples into town, as danger could lurk behind any given shrub or barrel. Every night before going to sleep, she checked under her bed for hiding assailants.
But despite all her vigilance, when the day finally came, as she was baling hay in the barn, Applejack was still caught off guard. Because instead of a sneak attack, sudden karate chop, or a hollered war cry--or anything as ridiculous and predictable as that--she only heard a quiet, calm voice call out, “Hello, Applejack.”
Slowly, Applejack turned around and came face to face with the mare she’d been dreading for the last few weeks. She swallowed thickly. “Well, howdy, sugar cube,” she replied, forcing a grin and feeling her stomach give a lurch. “What can I do for ya on this fine afternoon?”
The pink pony stood there, unusually still, staring at Applejack with an eerie Zen-like tranquility in her eyes. “Well, you can start by apologizing.”
The farmer took a deep breath. Right to business, then. Okay. She could do this. “I’m mighty sorry, Pinkie Pie,” she began hesitantly. “I shouldn’t never have just taken off like that on y’all.”
Pinkie tilted her head. “And?”
“Uh.” Applejack could feel the sweat start to form in tiny droplets on her brow. “Uh, and I’m sorry that I didn’t just tell y’all what was botherin’ me so much.”
Pinkie’s head tilted so far to the side that it looked like it might just fall right off. “And?”
“And …“ Applejack faltered. After a moment, she shook her head. “Yer gonna have to help me out here. I got nothin’.”
“And you broke your Pinkie promise!”
“I did no such thing!”
“You did too!” Pinkie harrumphed and stomped a hoof. “Skipping out on breakfast was a mean, sneaky trick, and it totally counts as breaking your promise.”
“No, it don’t!”
Pinkie Pie’s eyes narrowed. “It totally does, and you know it does, Applejack. I know you know, ’cause you’re doing that thing you always do when you’re trying to lie.”
That brought the orange earth pony up short. She frowned in confusion. “What’re you talkin’ about, Pinkie?”
“Oh, you know!” Pinkie’s tone was still unusually serious and focused, but a small grin played on her lips. “Your eyes go all herky jerky. You can never look anypony in the eye when you’re telling a fib.”
The farmer opened her mouth, thought twice, and then shut it again. She idly scratched her head with a hoof. “Really? I do that when I ain’t tellin’ the truth?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Well, I’ll be. Can’t say as I ever realized that.”
The two earth ponies stood there, staring one another down, silent and at a loss for words. The tension hung in the air like a heavy weight, and the very walls of the barn seemed to gradually close in on them. Then, after seeming hours of this stand-off, Pinkie snorted. After that initial snort, Pinkie began giggling, softly at first, then louder and louder, until finally she was on the floor of the barn and gasping for air with tears streaming down her face.
Applejack couldn’t help a chuckle of her own. “All right, sugar cube, you win. How can I make things up to ya? You tell me what I gotta do to put things right, and I’ll do it.”
Immediately Pinkie Pie hopped back to her feet with a grin. “Whatever I want?”
“Sure thing.” Applejack wasn’t at all sure that she liked Pinkie’s grin, but there was no turning back now. “Whatever you want, Pinkie.”
Pinkie’s grin stretched across her entire face, impossibly wide, and a glimmer shone in those blue eyes. A glimmer not unlike the one the pink pony had gotten that day she and a certain good-for-nothing pegasus had painted all of Applejack’s apples. And suddenly, Applejack was sure. Dead sure.
She didn’t like that grin. Not one little bit.
====================================================================
“Yer serious about this? This is what you want me to do to make things up to ya?”
Pinkie Pie shot her a suspicious look. “You’re not trying to break another promise, are you?”
“No! No, I ain’t tryin’ to do anything o’ the sort.” Applejack rolled her eyes. “I was just figurin’ … you know what? Never mind. If’n you’re really so dead set on helpin’ me buck apples, grab a basket from over yonder and let’s get started.”
As Pinkie bounced off to fetch the basket, the farmer just shook her head. This was the weirdest favor that she’d even been asked for--to let somepony else help her --but she was in no position to question things. The farm could always use some extra helping hooves, and Applejack had indeed told Pinkie that she’d do whatever the crazy pink mare wanted. Besides, as far as punishments went, it wasn’t so bad to have to listen to a few hours of “chimmy cherry chonga” this and “pickle barrel kumquat” that.
Well, she hoped it wouldn’t be that bad, anyway.
But Applejack was taken completely by surprise by what actually occurred--absolutely nothing. As Applejack went down the rows of trees, bucking and busheling, Pinkie did the same, albeit at a slower pace. Pinkie uttered not a single word, asked not a single question, sang not a single song, and the afternoon passed quickly and quietly.
Towards sundown, the strange silence grew to be too much for Applejack to bear, and she carefully set down her basket of apples. She turned around and, after a moment’s hesitation, called out, “Uh, Pinkie? You all right over there, sugar cube?”
Pinkie froze but didn’t turn around. When she finally spoke, her voice was unusually soft. “I knew what they were doing, you know. I can be a silly filly sometimes, but I’m not stupid .”
Applejack frowned. “What who were doin’?”
“Our friends. When they asked me to go help you in the cherry orchard.” Pinkie glanced over her shoulder and met Applejack’s gaze. “I knew they wanted me to go annoy you so much that you’d have to tell us what you were hiding. But I didn’t want to annoy you, Applejack! I don’t want to annoy anypony!”
“Pinkie …” Applejack trailed off, unsure of what to say.
“So I was just going to talk to you about nice, safe things, so you’d feel better and maybe want to tell us about what was bothering you, but then I got really excited while talking to you, because we don’t ever really talk just the two of us.”
Applejack began to protest that last statement but then, quickly reconsidering, she decided to keep her peace. Because Pinkie was right. Wasn’t she? They never really did talk one on one, did they? It was … it was a strange thing to realize. It made Applejack’s stomach feel a bit funny, a bit achy.
As Applejack thought over all of that, Pinkie Pie continued on. “And the more excited I got, the more I started talking, and the more I started talking, the more annoyed you seemed to get …” She looked down at her hooves. “And I guess I ended up annoying you anyways. I didn’t mean to, though.”
Applejack had thought she couldn’t feel lower than she had when she’d first seen all of her friends come into Dodge Junction, but she’d been wrong. Because right now, hearing the vulnerability and utter brokenness in Pinkie’s voice--this was the lowest she’d ever felt in her life.
“Pinkie Pie, I don’t …” She considered telling Pinkie that she hadn’t been annoyed back in that cherry orchard, but she knew Pinkie would see right through her if she tried. After a moment’s thought, she quietly said, “I ain’t annoyed right now. Haven’t been annoyed once the entire afternoon, actually. Fer whatever it’s worth.”
Pinkie lifted her head, curious. “Really?”
“Really.” Applejack grinned at her, a grin as wide and as honest as the day was long.
=============================================================
The two earth ponies crested the last hill that stood between the orchards and the farmhouse as the sun just began to touch the horizon. Applejack walked with a steady gait that was just a smidgen slower than the one she’d had at the start of the day, while Pinkie bounded forward with as much pep and enthusiasm as she always had. The farmer had to admit she felt a touch jealous of her friend--she’d give her best lasso to have just half the energy that Pinkie seemed to have.
They pulled their carts, filled to overflowing with apples, into the barn that stood next to the house. Applejack shrugged off her harness and gave her left shoulder a good, solid rotation. The joints loudly popped and cracked as she did so. Then she did the same thing with her right shoulder and let out a little sigh of contentment as everything settled into its proper place.
From the other side of the barn, Pinkie observed in a thoughtful tone, “You work really hard.”
Applejack chuckled, at both the obviousness of Pinkie’s statement and the serious expression on the other mare’s face. “Reckon I do, sugar cube. Ain’t nothing wrong with a bit o’ hard work, though.”
“But when do you have fun?”
“All the time. Workin’ is plenty fun.”
The pink pony snorted. “I mean real fun, Jack!”
“Well, if yer talkin’ leisure activities an’ all, I practice for rodeos and play horseshoes and---wait a minute.” Applejack’s eyebrows knit together. “What’d you just call me?”
“Jack!” Pinkie Pie repeated helpfully, throwing in a giggle for good measure. “It’s short for Applejack, and it rhymes with Big Mac! Rhyming is important, y’know.”
Applejack just stood there, dumbfounded. “I … don’t really have a good response to that, I don’t reckon.”
“That’s okay! You don’t have to respond!” Pinkie grinned. “So, what fun thing should we do right now?”
“Pinkie, I appreciate the sentiment, but I still got lots o’ work left to do.”
“Oh.” The other earth pony dropped into a pout, for the briefest of moments, before she brightened again. “Well, how about tomorrow, then?”
Applejack almost said no. She opened her mouth, and her lips started forming the word, but then she paused. Pinkie was staring at her with huge, pleading blue eyes. It was a lot like the puppy dog eyed looks that Applebloom would sometimes give her, the looks that nearly always caused Applejack to cave in to whatever her sister wanted.
“Tomorrow would be fine,” the farmer heard herself say. “After I’m done selling at the market, you can come on over and watch me practice some lasso tricks, if’n you’d care to. Can’t promise you’ll find it interestin’ at all, though.”
Pinkie Pie beamed back at her. “That sounds great, Jack! See ya tomorrow!”
And with that, the bubbly pink mare bounded out of the barn. Applejack watched her go with a bemused expression on her face. Then, with a little mental shrug, she began sorting through all the apples they’d picked earlier that day, separating out the good from the bad. Despite the crick in her back, she found herself humming cheerfully as she worked. It had been a good day. They’d cleared a lot of the orchard that afternoon, and it had been nice to be able to look over her shoulder as she bucked trees and receive a friendly smile in return.
But as she continued sorting in the barn, something pricked at the back of her mind. She couldn’t quite place her hoof on just what it was, until she remembered that odd little nickname Pinkie had used right before she’d left. Pinkie didn’t really have a lot of little nicknames for other ponies, not the way that Rarity called everyone “darling” or Applejack herself tended to refer to others as “sugar cube.” In fact, as far as Applejack could recall, Pinkie Pie had only ever given a special nickname to one pony, and that was only after--
Applejack suddenly frowned.
No, came the immediate protest from the rational part of her mind. There ain’t no way she’s sweet on me like she was on … naw. Naw. There just ain’t no way.
She sat back on her haunches. It was just Pinkie being friendly and random, the way she was with everypony … wasn’t it? The very idea that it might possibly be something else, something more, was a strange thought. Too strange a thought. Quickly she decided not to waste her mental energies thinking such ridiculous things. She was a practical working mare, after all, and she didn’t have time for that kind of silliness. So after giving her head a firm shake, Applejack returned to her apple sorting and her humming.
Besides, it might be a pleasant change of pace to have someone other than Applebloom watch her practice her lasso tricks. Might even be fun.
====================================================================Author's Notes: APPLE PIE! Best. Ship. Name. Ever.
Hypotheticals (AppleDash)
“Hypotheticals” (AppleDash)
Applejack was not a careless pony, nor a clumsy pony. She was not a pony given to daydreaming or flights of fancy. She was solid and strong. She was tough and no-nonsense. She was, in every conceivable way, the loyalest of friends and the most dependable of ponies.
Except … except perhaps not the loyalest of friends. There was, perhaps, a pony even more loyal than Applejack.
And that was precisely the problem.
There was a pony who caused Applejack to miss certain trees during bucking in the orchard, as Applejack found herself distracted by remembrances of a rough-edged voice and fierce rose-colored eyes. A pony who caused Applejack to stumble over her own four hooves while walking through the trees, as Applejack kept finding her gaze drifting skyward instead of watching where she was going. A pony who rested all too often in Applejack’s thoughts, just as surely as she was, right this moment, resting in one of Applejack’s trees … and a pony who would stubbornly stay put, no matter how many kicks Applejack would give.
But that didn’t stop the farmer from giving the tree a good, hard buck anyways.
“Hey!” The groggy pegasus wobbled a bit but, through years of practice, was able to maintain her perch in one of the apple tree’s lower boughs. “What’s the big idea, AJ?”
Applejack put on one of her best irritated glares. Fortunately, she was good at looking irritated--she had two siblings, after all. “This ain’t no motel, Rainbow Dash!” She gave a snort for good measure. “Why don’t you skedaddle and go make it rain or somethin’ else useful like that?”
Dash stood and lazily stretched, much the same way that Opalescence would. “It’s not scheduled to rain ‘til next week. Besides, you know you like having me around.”
“I’d like havin’ some rain for my crops a whole lot more, I tell you what.”
In lieu of an actual response, Rainbow Dash simply blew her a raspberry. But the pegasus stayed put, just like she always did, nestled quite cozily among the branches of the apple tree and looking as though she had no intentions of leaving anytime soon. The late afternoon sunlight filtered down through the leaves, and where the dapples of light fell upon Dash, her sleek blue coat practically glowed.
Applejack had to look away. She took a deep breath or two and, when she turned back around, Rainbow Dash was still peering down at her with those penetrating eyes of hers, a slight grin on her face.
And though Applejack was not a pony prone to giving voice to every ridiculous thought that crossed her mind--nor a pony prone to thinking ridiculous thoughts--still she found herself blurting out, “What if I hadn’t been in Dodge Junction?”
Immediately Rainbow Dash’s grin dropped into a frown. “Whaddaya mean?”
“What if … what if I weren’t there? When y’all came to fetch me after I didn’t come back from the rodeo.” Applejack paused and licked her lips. “What would ya have done?”
“I guess we woulda kept looking somewhere else ‘til we did find you.”
“But what if I weren’t nowhere? ”
“Have you been hangin’ out with Twilight too much lately? 'Cause that sounds just like Twilight’s philosophical mumbo-jumbo.” Dash laughed and good-naturedly shook her head. “You had to be somewhere , AJ! I mean, c’mon.”
The earth pony rolled her eyes. “Well, no kiddin’. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant …” She had no idea what she’d meant. “What if I weren’t even still in Equestria?”
“Huh? Why wouldn’t you still be in Equestria?”
“I dunno!” Applejack yelled, suddenly annoyed. She could feel heat flood her cheeks. “But I could’ve left, couldn’t I? So, what if I’d up and left?”
“Then I would’ve left Equestria to find you wherever else you’d gone,” Dash shot back, sounding equally annoyed. “Ugh! What’s with the game of twenty questions, anyways? What is up with you lately?”
That was a really good question.
It was a really good question that Applejack really didn’t want to answer.
Slowly, the farm pony blew out her breath in a loud, gusty sigh. “I’m sorry, RD. I’ve been feelin’ a bit out of sorts lately--don’t pay me no mind.”
Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t say anything.
“Now, go on, git. I reckon Twi’s got in the newest Daring Do book by now.” Applejack forced herself to turn around and to start walking away at a nice, even clip. “I ain’t got time for ornery pegasus ponies today.”
But Applejack didn’t get but twenty feet away before she was stopped dead in her tracks by a familiar voice calling out to her, in an unexpectedly gentle tone, “Hey, Applejack?”
“Yes, Rainbow Dash?” she replied, staring straight ahead.
“I would’ve went ‘round the whole wide world, if I had to. Went ‘round twice over, even.” Rainbow sounded oddly contemplative. “You’re stubborn, sure, but I’m even more stubborn--and even though you’re pretty fast for an earth pony, we both know I’m way faster. I would’ve caught up to you, sooner or later.”
Applejack stayed still as stone. She swallowed before answering. “I reckon you’re right. I reckon you would’ve.”
“Besides,” added Dash with a chuckle, “you know Rainbow Dash never leaves her friends hangin’!”
Applejack knew that. Of course she knew that. So she couldn’t explain why such a simple statement of fact was causing her throat to close in tight, as though it was trying to choke her, or why her knees were trembling the way they did usually only after the first day of apple-bucking season.
“Anyways, guess I’ll see you later, AJ. Maybe sometime next week we should--”
"Say, you ever bake an apple pie?”
“Um. What?”
Slowly, Applejack turned to glance over her shoulder. Rainbow Dash was standing on the ground now, only a few feet away, wearing a puzzled expression on her face.
“Apple pie,” repeated Applejack, her voice high and strained, as taut as the strings on her fiddle. “I could teach ya, if you wanted. Ain’t no apple pie that tastes better in all Equestria than the ones made from the Apple family’s secret recipe.”
Dash snorted in amusement. “Uh, yeah, baking is more Pinkie Pie’s thing. Why would I wanna learn how to make a pie?”
That was a really good question.
It was a really good question that Applejack really didn’t want to answer.
“Well, Rainbow ... you wanna get in good with the Wonderbolts, as I seem to recollect.” This was not a lie. “And back at the Grand Gallopin’ Gala, there was that one stallion--Soarin’ was his name, I think?--and he seemed to like my apple pie a whole awful lot.” This was also not a lie. “And I reckon he’d be mighty impressed if you made him the best apple pie he’d ever eaten.” This, too, was not at all a lie.
Rainbow Dash tilted her head and looked thoughtful. “Hey … hey, yeah! Yeah, that’s an awesome idea!” She broke out in a mega-watt smile. “You’d really teach me how to make special Apple family pie?”
Applejack returned her friend’s smile with a grin of her own. “Why, shoot! Of course I would! Anythin’ to help a friend.”
“I’ll swing by the farm after work tomorrow afternoon, then,” replied Rainbow, with a decisive nod. “Thanks bunches!” And with that, she snapped out her wings and launched into the sky like an arrow released from a bow. In a matter of seconds, she was nothing more than a tiny blue dot disappearing into the distance.
Applejack stood there, staring upward at the multi-hued contrail left in the pegasus’ wake, for several long moments. “You’re welcome,” she muttered to herself and, still grinning, trotted off toward the barn to go fetch an apple cart.
She didn’t trip or stumble even once.
Author’s Notes: This one was inspired by, and written while listening to, Wreckless Eric’s “Whole Wide World.” I think “The Last Round-Up” made me okay with AppleDash? And I feel conflicted about this? And will now write only in upspeak?
"The Wait" (TwiPie)
I really, really hope she didn’t bring the party cannon.
Twilight Sparkle waits.
What am I even thinking? Of course she brought the party cannon.
The light is too bright, and the murmurs from the gathered crowd are entirely too loud.
Maybe Rarity managed to stop her, somehow? There’s no way Rarity would let her bring that cannon, if there was a chance of stopping her.
Shining Armor whispers something to her, something soft and low and probably meant to be reassuring, but she doesn’t hear. She can’t quite make out the words over the thundering of her own heart in her ears.
Oh, but she’s tricky. I bet she could’ve hid that darn cannon somewhere or other.
The music starts.
I bet Rainbow Dash helped her, too. I bet Rainbow thinks it’s funny, just the greatest prank ever, but Rainbow Dash isn’t the one who’s going to be banished to the moon for sneaking unauthorized artillery into the palace.
Three little fillies come traipsing down the aisle, all smiles and sunshine. Flower petals get strewn haphazardly along the floor as the girls make their way down. Twilight begins to sweat.
I should have asked Applejack to tie up both of those troublemakers until we were ready to start. Oh, stupid, stupid Twilight! Always forgetting everything important, all those little details, so disorganized ...
Something smooth and warm touches her shoulder. She doesn’t look down, doesn’t need to look down, to know it’s Spike. He’s probably worried about her, too, just like Shining Armor. Twilight can’t help but think that both of her brothers are acting completely silly--treating her like a live grenade instead of the perfectly rational pony she actually is--but she forgives them instantly, as she knows they mean well.
Is it too late to ask Fluttershy to use the Stare on her? I know Fluttershy said she can’t do it on command, but that sneaky little pegasus could have been just holding out on all of us.
Two mares, an earth pony and unicorn, walk down the aisle next, all steadiness and grace, respectively. They are resplendent in their gowns, as perfect and as beautiful as the statues in the palace gardens. The unicorn’s eyes keep darting discreetly to the hat sitting proudly atop the earth pony’s golden mane, disdainful glances which the behatted pony ignores just as discreetly.
I can’t believe this is real. This is real. This is … oh, my gosh, this is really happening. There’s Shining Armor, and Spike, and there are Mom and Dad, and … and … oh, by the moon and sun, I think I’m going to throw up.
After the earth pony and unicorn follow two pegasi, just as beautiful and just as brilliant in their formal attire. But all similarities end there. They are fire and ice, the pegasus mares--the one basking in being the center of attention, preening, head held high, the other practically cringing as she trudges dutifully forward, ducking her head so that her mane obscures her face.
I can’t do this. I haven’t done enough planning. I haven’t read anywhere near enough books, and I didn’t even have time to research the mating customs of the Kyllpon tribe of Griffdonia! I haven’t, I haven’t, I haven’t--
At the end of the long, carpeted aisle stands a pink earth pony wearing her unruly mane swept up in a loose bun, with a few escaped strands framing her face. She is dressed in a gown of the purest white, with accents of blue and gold. The blue in the dress matches perfectly the blue in the pink pony’s eyes.
I … she ...
Those huge blue eyes never leave Twilight’s, not for a second, and in turn Twilight is unable to tear her gaze away from the pony before her. The mare manages to take a few small, restrained steps down the aisle--steps that seem so strange, so awkward--before she gives in and begins bounding forward with all her usual energy and enthusiasm.
As she approaches, the pink pony’s eyes dance and laugh and sing. Silently they sing out, “Twilight, I love you.”
… she’s beautiful.
The princess steps forward, her voice warm and her eyes shining with joy. “We are gathered here today …”
Twilight doesn’t bother to listen. Instead she focuses on how very near the other pony is standing, how she can feel the warmth radiating from that bright pink body, how she can smell the vaguest hints of cocoa and vanilla.
She’s so beautiful.
Pinkie leans in close, her voice a warm whisper in the unicorn’s ear. “Are you okay, Twi? You were all frowny-faced just a second ago.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I ...” Twilight swallows thickly. Glances over at Pinkie from the corner of her eyes, not daring to turn her head, as the princess is still speaking. “I was just thinking about how beautiful you look.”
And then Pinkie smiles, wider and brighter than Twilight Sparkle has ever seen her smile before. The earth pony’s entire face just glows, and it sparks a flame in Twilight’s own chest.
That smile. Oh, by Star Swirl’s beard, that smile . I love that smile. I need that smile.
“Pinkamena Diane Pie, do you take this mare to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”
“Oh, yes! Absolutely!” She turns to beam at Twilight, perfectly happy and utterly unguarded. “I totally, totally do!”
I need that smile. I need her love.
I need her .
“And you, Twilight Sparkle. Do you take this mare to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”
I do.
“I do,” she promises, her voice soft but steady, just a hair above a whisper.
The world is blurry now, as though she’s sitting at the bottom of the ocean looking up at the sky beyond the water, and for a fraction of a second she feels confused. Then she realizes--she’s crying. She sniffles a bit and, for reasons she doesn’t even know, lets out a quiet little laugh. She hears Pinkie laugh in reply. It’s a loud, boisterous laugh. A beautiful laugh. A perfect laugh.
“I now pronounce you …”
And then Pinkie is kissing her, and she’s kissing Pinkie, and the entire crowded hall is cheering wildly. But she finds she can’t focus on anyone or anything but the pony who is now strangely, inexplicably, wonderfully, her wife.
I do. Oh, Pinkie, I do.
Twilight pulls away, blinking away her tears as she does, to find Pinkie still smiling back at her. The unicorn reaches out to tenderly lay a hoof along her beloved’s face. Her hoof barely has grazed Pinkie’s fur, however, when there’s a sudden, deafening explosion that shatters every window in the palace’s hall.
A moment later, festive and brightly-colored confetti comes raining down from the ceiling above.
Of course. Of course she did.
“Pinkie Pie.”
In response, the earth pony gives her a nervous grin, a grin that Twilight knows all too well and sees all too often. “Um. Oopsy daisy?”
Of course she brought the party cannon.
Calling the Bluff (ApplePie)
"Calling the Bluff" (ApplePie)
When Applejack woke up, she awoke to a pair of bright blue eyes. They were not the blue eyes that she'd dreamed of for months—those awful, secret, shameful dreams that always left her feeling so guilty and sick inside—not those dark blue eyes that sparkled and gleamed, that mocked and taunted. No, these blue eyes were a soft, baby blue, open and honest as the day was long, and even this early in the morning, full of the purest kind of laughter.
"Good morning, Applejack!" sang Pinkie, while giving the farmer a quick lick on the nose.
Applejack almost grinned. Almost, but not quite. "G'morning, Pink."
Rolling out of bed, the pink earth pony trotted over to a dresser and began dragging a brush through her unruly mane. "So, what do you want for breakfast today? I was thinkin' blueberry muffins, but I know how you feel about apples, so maybe I could—"
"We gotta stop."
Pinkie slowly set down her brush. "What? Stop eating breakfast? Perish the thought!"
"We gotta stop … stop doing this ." Applejack sat up in bed and ran a hoof through her shaggy mane. Her hair was untied, and she tossed it over her shoulder in irritation. "It ain't right, what we're doin'. It ain't right, me using you like this!"
"Applejack, you're not—"
"Pinkie, I know what yer gonna say." It's what Pinkie always said, but this morning, Applejack wasn't going to let her. Couldn't let her. "Fact o' the matter is, though, that we both know all o' this only ever happened 'cause you was smartin' over losing RD and I was all hung up on …"
Pinkie raised an eyebrow, almost as if daring the other pony to say the name.
" … well, it don't matter none who I was hung up on, I don't reckon," finished Applejack, with a scowl. She grabbed her hat from the bedpost and headed for the door. She paused with her hoof on the door knob, glancing over her shoulder at Pinkie Pie, who was still standing by the dresser.
“Please don’t go, AJ. Pretty please?”
"I’m sorry, sugarcube, but it's high time we both faced the truth. You don't love me, and I …" Applejack looked away, up to the corner of the room, where a scrap of an orange party streamer dangled limp and lifeless from the ceiling. "And I don't love you, neither."
Swallowing hard, Applejack pushed open the door. She barreled down the stairs at a full gallop, as she felt stinging behind her eyes, and was grateful to find a closed and empty bakery below her. Just as she reached the front door of Sugarcube Corner, she heard the soft clop of hooves from behind and froze.
She probably should have kept on going. But she didn't.
Maybe it was because her Granny raised her better than to just cut and run like a coward. Maybe it was that stupid orange gem, cut in the shape of an apple and set into a necklace of shining gold.
Maybe it was just because she was a darn fool. Granny always did say that all the common sense in the family went to Macintosh.
"You're wrong, you know." Pinkie Pie's voice was perfectly pleasant, perfectly cheerful, perfectly Pinkie.
Despite herself, Applejack snorted. "Wrong about what?"
She could hear hooves on wood as Pinkie slowly approached. "About me not loving you, of course."
Applejack shut her eyes. Darn it. Darn it, darn it, darn it! She'd thought … she'd hoped … darn it all to Tartarus and back again …
"Oh, and you're wrong about you not loving me . That too!"
Instantly Applejack's eyes flew open, only to be greeted once again by that sea of shimmering blue, as Pinkie had somehow positioned herself directly between the orange pony and the door.
Shakily, Applejack licked her lips and asked, "Pink, what in Equestria are ya talkin' about?"
The other pony grinned like a Cheshire cat. "You ever wonder why Rarity and Dashie always get all your bits whenever we play poker, AJ? It's because, even though you're really great at lots and lots of things—like apple-farming and baking and rodeos and that one super awesome thing you can do with your tongue—you are the worstest ever at bluffing, you silly filly."
Applejack didn't quite know what to say to that.
She was rescued from the necessity of a reply, however, when Pinkie Pie's lips met hers, hard and insistent, yet somehow friendly and inviting. After a moment's hesitation, a moment of confusion and indecision, Applejack returned the kiss. It seemed like the thing to do.
She didn't know why.
And she didn't know why that stinging behind her eyes suddenly got worse, as soon as she started kissing Pinkie back, why it got so bad that she could feel hot tears begin trickling down. But when a pair of soft hooves touched her cheeks and gently wiped away those tears, she couldn't stop the grin that slowly but surely overtook her entire face.
==================================================I'd never intended this series to work like "The Combinatorics Project," with just one story per ship, but instead to feature whichever ships I felt like writing. So I always knew there would be ships that repeated, 'cause goodness knows I have my favorites ... but if you'd told me the first ship to get more than one story would be ApplePie, I'd have told you that you were nuts.
But Kyronea gave out a writing prompt about Applejack confessing her love to Pinkie Pie, and I felt inspired. So here 'tis.
Best ship name is best ship name.
Death by a Thousand Cuts (RariShy)
“Death by a Thousand Cuts” (RariShy)
It was only her eyes that were different.
She still smiled just as often as she ever did, and each smile was as perfect and beautiful as every single smile that had come before. She still showed up late to their spa dates--and showed up late by the same exact margin that she always had. She still chatted at length about her day, she still laughed that tinkling laugh that rang out like a bell, she still insisted on paying every time they went out to lunch.
But her eyes had lost all warmth, all sense of connection. They were cold, her eyes, so very cold.
Perhaps any other pony wouldn’t have noticed the change. Lots of ponies thought that Rarity was a bit stiff, a bit icy. But not Fluttershy. She knew better. She’d seen--she’d felt --the warmth that radiated out from the unicorn’s large heart, the warmth that lay just beneath the surface of those mysterious, dark blue eyes. The warmth that was now gone.
Fluttershy didn’t know what to do or say about it, though. Because Rarity hadn’t changed in any other, overt ways. They were still friends. They still had their lunches and their massages and their gossip sessions conducted in hushed whispers over tea. It was just … it was only …
The pegasus always felt so cold, felt downright chilled to the bone, whenever she fell under Rarity’s gaze. Once upon a time, nothing made Fluttershy happier than to have Rarity look at her--to share a glance filled with knowing and understanding and love. But now, Rarity’s looks only made her flinch.
Still, though, she didn’t know what to say. Or even if she should say anything at all.
So Fluttershy said nothing. She said nothing, and in silence she shivered and in silence she wondered if she would ever feel warm again.
The other girls noticed, of course. Of course. Twilight had approached her first, followed not long after by Pinkie and Applejack, all three offering up their friendliest smiles and asking in their gentlest voices about what was wrong. She had returned all those awful, well-meaning smiles as best as she’d been able. She had told them that she was grateful for their concern but that nothing was the matter. Everything was fine.
It was not at all the truth, and yet it wasn’t quite a lie.
She made sure to not Pinkie promise anything, though. Just to be safe. It was always better to play it safe.
Finally, inevitably, Rainbow Dash had approached her. The brash young flier had barreled her way into Fluttershy’s cottage, her face serious and her eyes soft, and brushed Angel to one side. Before Fluttershy could so much as squeak out a protest, Rainbow had scooped her up into an almost painfully tight embrace.
She had cried, then, and Rainbow Dash had allowed her. She’d cried and she’d cried, and Dash had just held her wordlessly between her legs and wings, as though she could protect Fluttershy from all the pain in the entire world using nothing but her very body itself.
And even then, even still, Rarity’s eyes were so very cold.
It was Applejack who broke the stalemate at last. Honest, blunt, tactless Applejack. Although the farmer didn’t even mean to. Didn’t even realize. As Fluttershy headed into town for her weekly appointment at the spa, an ever diminishing hopefulness warring with despair within her breast, she happened to run into the orange earth pony along the dusty, empty road.
After they traded hellos, Applejack asked, in her easy, conversational way, if Fluttershy was going to Rarity’s fashion show in Canterlot next week. At that, Fluttershy froze. She froze, for just a moment, breathless, dizzy, blinking rapidly to try to ward off the sudden tears in her eyes … and then the rubber band inside her chest that had been pulling tighter and tighter finally snapped .
She muttered an apology in Applejack’s direction and then took off towards the spa at a full gallop. For once, Rarity had arrived first, and when Fluttershy burst through the doors, the unicorn offered up another one of those perfect, empty smiles.
“Why, hello, darling! How are--”
“You have a fashion show,” spat Fluttershy, her legs trembling as she panted and tried to catch her breath. “You have a show. In Canterlot. Next week.”
The smile wobbled but held on. “Yes, I do. I was going to invite you later this--”
“Applejack knew. I had to … I had to find out about something like this from Applejack? ” She swallowed thickly and willed herself not to cry. “Why, Rarity? Why … why are you doing this?”
It was then that Rarity’s smile fell apart. She glanced away and raised a hoof to pat down her hair, a tell-tale sign that she was nervous and uncomfortable about something. After several long moments, Rarity delicately cleared her throat and replied, “Well, you see, the thing was, I simply didn’t want to bother you with something so ...” She turned back towards the pegasus and, when she did, that perfect smile was firmly back in place. “... something so petty and so frivolous . That’s all.”
And finally, horribly, Fluttershy understood.
She almost wished she didn’t.
=================================================================Author's Notes: This piece is a revised version of a bit of writing I did for a "Thirty Minute Pony Stories" writing prompt given out by Bookman . Writing for the prompts is a ton of fun, so check 'em out if you have the time and the inclination!
"All In" (AppleShy)
Applejack walked through the doors of her barn, a tray full of sarsaparilla clenched between her teeth, and as soon as she’d stepped inside, she felt a warm burst of happiness at the sight before her. Seated on hay bales around a large, round table were five of her most favorite ponies in all of Equestria, chatting animatedly and shuffling a deck of cards. As she drew nearer, they all looked up and smiled. But it was Fluttershy who trotted over to take the tray from her.
"Thank ya kindly, apple o' my eye," said Applejack, as soon as her mouth was empty. She leaned forward to deposit a kiss on the pegasus' cheek, and Fluttershy blushed in that pretty way she always did.
Fluttershy trotted over to the table and set it down on the edge, in between Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie, before glancing back at the farmer. "Oh, it was no trouble," she replied, with a giggle that made Applejack's heart skip a beat. "You're very welcome, song of my heart."
Immediately, Rainbow Dash began pretending to gag. "Ew, gross, guys!" She shook her head and scowled at Applejack in particular. "Do you really have to say that to each other every single time one of you walks into a room?"
Applejack very calmly took her seat at the table and started counting out poker chips. "Yes, Rainbow. Yes, we really do."
"We also say it every night, right before bed," offered Fluttershy, with a happy little smile, as she began passing around the bottles of sarsaparilla.
Rainbow rolled her eyes so hard that they looked liable to pop right out of her skull. "Boring! Man, I am so glad me and Twi aren't all sappy and pathetic like that."
Instantly Twilight frowned. "That's not true, Rainbow! We're plenty romantic!" she protested, crossing her forelegs over her chest. "I mean, I've read every book on relationships that the Ponyville library has! I think it's fair to say that I am an accomplished master at romance by now."
"Darling." Rarity raised an eloquent eyebrow. "You and Rainbow are two of my dearest and most beloved friends--I want you to know that--but the fact of the matter is, neither of you has a single romantic bone in your body."
Pinkie Pie nodded, with comic seriousness, as she slung a foreleg around Rarity's shoulders. "She's right, ya know. And nopony knows romance like my Rarishine!"
"Indeed," agreed Rarity in a lofty tone, while giving the pink earth pony an affectionate peck on the cheek.
Meanwhile, Applejack had opened one of the bottles of sarsaparilla, and she was happily guzzling it down while just as happily ignoring the entire lot of them. She figured she'd give them another five minutes, tops, to simmer down before she yelled at them to shut their yaps and ante up. Any longer than that, and Fluttershy would start getting worried that they weren't just arguing for fun. As she waited for her friends to quiet and drew deep pulls from her nice, cold drink, she could feel Fluttershy settle in beside her, warm and soft and cozy.
If Applejack was being honest with herself—and she took great pride in being honest with herself—she had to admit that she and Fluttershy maybe weren't as exciting a couple as the others in their little group. They didn't have that passion for trying everything new, that urge to fly higher and strive harder with every new day, that Twilight and Rainbow did. And they didn't thrive off of passion and emotion and drama, the way that Pinkie and Rarity did, as though all of life was just one big musical with the both of them starring in the main roles.
Applejack glanced over to the pony leaning against her and found Fluttershy gazing up at her with soft eyes and a small smile.
No, she and 'Shy weren't any of that stuff. She and 'Shy were quiet. Steady. Easy-going. Applejack had her trees, and Fluttershy had her animals, and they both had nice picnics on cool spring days … and that was enough. More than enough, really. It was more than Applejack had ever hoped to dream of. But it wasn't really something she could explain too well. She wasn't good with words like Twi and Rarity were. Still, Fluttershy seemed to like her just fine, warts and all, so she reckoned it wasn't something she should fret over too terribly much.
"Hey! Earth to Applejack!"
With a jerk of her head, Applejack turned towards Rainbow Dash and blinked. It wasn't until just then that she noticed that the rest of the table had finally fallen silent.
"You two were sort of just gazing into one another's eyes," explained Twilight, with an apologetic smile. "It … was pretty cute, I have to say."
Pinkie giggled her agreement. "Totally superrific cute!"
"So! Boring!" Dash slumped down at her seat, seemingly resigned. "I swear, I bet that's gonna be the last thing either of you ever say. That 'oh, you're the apple of my eye!' and 'ooh, but you're the song of my heart!' junk." Suddenly, she snapped back to attention and leaned across the table, her eyes serious and urgent. "Oh, my gosh! Do you even know what a lame epitaph that will make? Do you?"
"'Epitaph'?" Rarity shot the pegasus a look out of the corner of her eye. "Isn't that a rather large word for you?"
Grinning proudly, Twilight leaned over to nuzzle her fillyfriend. "Not for my little bookworm!"
Dash blushed and gave the purple unicorn a quick glare. "H-hey! I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me that when the girls were around!"
But before another round of their little group's perpetual argument could start up, Fluttershy interrupted, quietly saying, "Actually, Rainbow, I hope you're right."
"No need to hope, 'cause I'm always right!" Rainbow Dash preened for a few moments before suddenly her mouth dropped into a confused frown. "Um. Right about what?"
"About those being the last things we ever say to each other." Fluttershy glanced over to Applejack, her eyes huge and shining. "I hope we can hear each other say that every day for the rest of our lives … and I hope those are the last words we ever hear."
Applejack swallowed hard. Then swallowed again. But still her throat felt a bit tight as she whispered in reply, "I hope so too, sugar cube. I hope so too."
There was a moment of silence in the large barn, heavy and meaningful. The barn’s oil lanterns flickered softly, casting dancing shadows along the walls and creating a million little sparkles of light in eyes that were a deep forest green and gentle, watery teal.
"Totally gross," Dash muttered, just loud enough to be heard.
"Shut up , Rainbow Dash," hissed Twilight and Rarity in unison, while Pinkie opted to simply elbow the blue pegasus in the ribs.
Author's Notes: Apparently all of my Applejack stories will now involve corny poker terminology. Huzzah!
This is another piece originally written for a writing prompt but which I revised to post here.
The Eyes Have It (TwiPie)
“The Eyes Have It” (TwiPie)
I. Mirrors
The eyes, they say, are the windows to the soul.
Her eyes are big and bright and almost impossibly blue, as blue as fresh spring water, as blue as a cloudless sky, as blue as aquamarines. Her eyes that smile and laugh just as readily as her mouth, and they’re full of such perfect, shining joy. Except for when they’re not.
Tiny moments, infrequent, almost unnoticeable. The very end of a party, as everyone’s going home. That split second after a friend’s just shoved her away following a too-tight hug. And then, just like that, those big blue eyes break , they shatter completely, and from behind the smiles and laughter come bubbling up panic and desperation and stark, cold fear.
Twilight recognizes it all too easily. Panic and desperation, after all, are her bread and butter.
II. Strengths
Twilight was amazed at how easily Pinkie seemed to be trotting along. The unicorn couldn’t detect any heavy breathing, stumbling steps, or anything else that would indicate that Pinkie needed a break. It was more than a little impressive, really, that Pinkie Pie could carry her for hours like this.
Maybe it was an earth pony thing. Twilight had learned while still young about how each race of pony had its own special magic. Pegasi ruled the air and the weather, while unicorns had a direct connection to magical energy. But earth ponies’ magic was more abstract, more indistinct, having to do with the plants and animals on the ground. More than a few fillies and colts in Twilight’s classes had snickered at that part of the lesson, whispering to one another that earth pony magic could barely be called magic at all.
Twilight had snickered, too. But right now, right here, she dearly wished that she hadn’t, and she felt a stab of white-hot guilt.
Twilight rested her head against the neck of the other mare. Underneath her, Pinkie felt comfortingly solid, and with every step the earth pony took, Twilight could feel Pinkie’s shoulder muscles flex and contract. Strong. That’s what Pinkie was. What earth ponies, in general, were. That sort of physical strength was never something Twilight had valued—was always something at which she scoffed as being inferior to intellect—but right now Pinkie’s surprising strength and boundless energy were the only things keeping Twilight from freezing to death in the snow.
“It’s ironic,” she mumbled into the soft warmth of Pinkie’s mane.
She could feel Pinkie’s head turn towards her. “Twi? Did you say something?”
I could fall in love with you. It was a strange thing to think, random and completely out of the blue, and yet think it Twilight did. It would be so easy to fall in love with you.
“No.” The unicorn shook her head, just slightly, careful not to further aggravate her injuries. “No, I didn’t say anything.”
III. Synonyms
“And I feel that it would be the height of happiness,” Spike continued reciting, cackling as he did so, the piece of paper held tight between his claws, “if I could drown in those eyes of amethyst.”
At that, Rarity gasped.
Meanwhile, Applejack scrunched up her face in a thoughtful frown. “Amethyst? What’s that?”
Every eye was on Pinkie, who just stood there with a plastic smile frozen in place. The very air in the bakery seemed to grow dense, almost oppressively thick and stifling, and the loud ticking of the wall clock was the only sound to be heard for several long moments.
“Purple,” came the reply from a soft voice. As one the group turned, and there was Twilight standing in the doorway. “‘Amethyst’ means purple.”
IV. Meanings
“Did you … did you mean it? That stuff about, um, you know. My being the song of your heart and your drowning in my eyes and … stuff.”
Pinkie didn’t look over. In a voice that sounded strangely muffled to her own ears, she replied, “Every word.”
“Oh. Um. That’s … wow. Wow.” Twilight laughed a bit, but it sounded shaky. “I don’t know what to say. Actually … actually, that’s not true. I should start by apologizing. I’m so sorry, Pinkie. I never should have—”
“It’s okay.” Pinkie gave a shrug. “I mean, I mighta done that too.”
“Even so.”
“I forgive you. Don’t worry about it.”
Together they sat in awkward silence for a few moments. Pinkie could feel the heat from Twilight’s body, as Twilight sat so close they were almost touching, and struggled to keep her heart from pounding its way right out of her chest. Twilight was just so close, too close, really, and it was hard to focus on anything besides that lovely warmth or the slight smell of ink …
“So,” said Twilight, after clearing her throat. “You … you really like my smile?”
Pinkie inhaled sharply. “Twilight Sparkle, I love your smile. I love all of your smiles.”
And then, suddenly, like water breaking free from a leaking dam, Pinkie was talking about all of the different kinds of smiles that Twilight had: a big wide smile that caused the unicorn’s entire face to light up like the sun, a small quiet smile that meant Twilight had just solved a particularly hard problem, a lopsided grin whenever somepony said something that Twilight thought was amusing …
Finally, Pinkie was able to catch herself, to stop the seemingly endless tide of words, and glanced over to Twilight. When she did, she saw that Twilight Sparkle was smiling. Twilight was, in fact, smiling a larger smile than Pinkie had ever seen her smile before.
V. Lacunas
Twilight paused in the doorway to the bakery. After a moment, she glanced over her shoulder.
Pinkie fidgeted nervously under the weight of the unicorn’s gaze. She tried not to think about just what might be racing around in Twilight’s big brain. She tried not to think about how beautiful, how frighteningly beautiful, were Twilight’s deep violet eyes—but, of course, as soon as she tried not to do it, she started doing it even more.
She could write an entire song cycle about Twilight’s eyes. An entire opera about those eyes.
Then, Twilight turned around and slowly walked back over to Pinkie. She stopped right in front of the earth pony, her every movement calm and deliberate, and Pinkie could feel her heart pounding away in her chest and her stomach churn with a strange mixture of excitement and fear.
Twilight closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It seemed the very air around them hung thick and heavy with anticipation.
And then Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes again and began singing.
I am not a songsmith I have only these words true But I will sing them loud I love you, I love you.
Pinkie had never stood so still or so quiet in her entire life.
I will sing until you see That though the feeling’s new It burns as bright as the sun I love you, I love you.
Twilight took a step closer, her eyes burning with determination.
I will not move, will not bend Not until you give the cue Because I need you to know I love you, I love—
But Twilight Sparkle never got to finish her song, as suddenly Pinkie’s mouth was on hers, urgent, desperate, as the earth pony kissed the unicorn with a hunger greater than any she’d ever known, a hunger greater than she’d even thought possible. After the kiss finally ended, though, Twilight offered not a single word of complaint ... offered up nothing but a tiny, quiet smile, as small and as sparkling as the purest of diamonds.
Wins and Losses (AppleDash)
“Wins and Losses” (AppleDash)
Applejack sat across the table from her competitor and tried with all her might to ignore the stinging in her eyes. She couldn't give up. She couldn't cry—because if she was the first to cry, that meant her opponent won.
She wasn't quite sure just how she knew that, but she did.
Just as she knew that ornery blue pegasus on the other side of the table would never let her live it down.
Truth be told, Rainbow Dash's own eyes were looking a bit moist themselves. The hint of tears made those deep pink irises shine even more brightly than they usually did, and Applejack had to redouble her efforts to pony up and not give in to the urge to blubber like a baby foal.
On the table before them sat two plates of half-finished food—apple dumplings for the earth pony and a spinach frittata for the pegasus—as well as a half-burned candle that had been shoved into an empty wine bottle. It was a nice restaurant. Much nicer than Applejack would have expected, actually, and that had worried her. This entire evening stank with the unmistakable whiff of Rarity-specific meddling, and that never meant anything good.
The golden horseshoe that sat right next to the wine bottle had only confirmed Applejack's suspicions.
Rainbow Dash swallowed, and tiny beads of sweat started trickling down her face. Applejack fought back a grin—the brash young flier was never so adorable as she was when nervous. "So, uh, yeah." Rainbow coughed loudly. "Are you … y'know, gonna answer my question? Sometime this year, maybe?"
Applejack raised an eyebrow. "Well, sugar cube, I reckoned that you wouldn't have asked the question if ya weren't pretty sure what answer you were gonna get."
"Oh, for cryin' out—" Glaring ferociously, Dash bit off whatever she'd been about to say next. "C'mon, Applejack. Humor me here, will ya?"
The stinging behind Applejack's eyes was growing worse, to the point it was almost unbearable, and she quickly leaned across the table so that she could whisper in the pegasus' ear. "The answer's yes," she murmured in a soft voice, breathing in the clean scent of rain that always lingered in Dash's mane. "Shoulda known even before ya asked that I'd say yes."
"R-really?"
And it was this—that slight hitch in Rainbow's voice, that heartbreaking tone of surprise—that caused Applejack to lose. That finally let flow all those tears she'd been holding back.
"Oh, Rainbow." She wrapped her forelegs around the other pony, holding tight. "O' course the answer's yes. The answer's been 'yes' since the day we met , ya blind fool."
There was a brief silence, little longer than a heartbeat, before Rainbow Dash let out a laugh that was loud and pure. "You said yes! You really said yes!" The pegasus rubbed her cheek against Applejack's, and suddenly the farmer could feel hot tears that weren't her own. "You're really gonna marry me!"
Applejack rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips nonetheless. "S'what I said, sure enough."
"You said yes," Rainbow repeated, quieter, her voice trembling like a string on a fiddle. "You said yes … "
And Applejack shut her eyes, the tears still trickling down, and for once in her life, she found that she didn't mind so much that she'd lost. That she'd been the first to break, the first to cry. For once, it was all right. Better than all right, even.
Still smiling, she huskily replied, "I love you … ya featherbrained idiot."
"I love you too.” Rainbow Dash laughed again, and somehow it sounded even happier than the first laugh. “You stubborn old mule."
Author's Notes: Just another little story that I adapted from something I wrote for a writing prompt .
A Certain Rare Beauty (RariJack)
“A Certain Rare Beauty" (RariJack)
You are the weak link. The imperfect gem. You know that, don’t you?
Rarity had known. She was many things--a swirling mixture of good, bad, and other--but she was hardly stupid. She had known.
She trots around the workroom at Carousel Boutique, pulling curtains as she circles around the room. With the windows and curtains closed, the room quickly grows stifling, hot, nearly unbearable. But not as unbearable as it would be to leave the windows open.
Once she’s finished this small task, she sits down in the middle of the room. Her eyes slowly adjust to the dark, and she glances around the room, at her fabrics, at her mannequins. Usually she loves this room and the creative energy it brings to her, but today … today, she simply feels lost.
You are the most selfish and vain Element of Generosity I have ever met. And I have met more than a few previous holders of that pretty little jewel you wear around your neck. Oh, yes, indeed. Didn’t you know there were others?
The taunt had merely been a distraction, of course, and she ignored it as the distraction it was. Instead of taking the bait, she’d risked taking her eyes off that sneering face before her to glance over to the corner of the cave, where five ponies hung in suspended animation, encircled with a sickly green glow of a magic born of neither pureness nor friendship.
When she'd looked back at the creature, he had grinned. It was the most obscene expression she’d ever seen. With a small sneer, a bit of petty defiance, she’d asked just what it was that he wanted.
She lights a small candle with her magic and sets it on her worktable. She picks up a pencil and begins sketching, simply going through the motions, trying to regain some sense of normalcy. She will sketch, and she will sew, and she will create. She will make beautiful things.
Beautiful, beautiful things.
As she continues sketching away madly, she swallows a sob.
Tell me. What would you give for them? For your friends? For those you claim to love? Just how generous are you prepared to be, Element?
Anything. She would have given anything. Everything.
Anything that she had, she’d spat at him, anything that was hers to give. She'd promised to give away the world, if only he would leave them unharmed. And that grotesque grin had grown even larger.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flash of something bright, and she turns her head without thinking. That flash of light proves only to be her candle, reflected in the long, full-body mirror in the corner.
She finds herself staring into her own eyes. Gazing upon her own face.
The sob wells up again in her throat, coming from somewhere deep inside her, and it takes all of Rarity’s willpower to force it back down. Then, with a feral cry, Rarity upends her entire table with a sudden flare of magic. The entire room is bathed in blue as she reaches out and tears fabric in two, smashes her mannequins to pieces, throws chairs across the room. And then, while standing in the middle of the wreckage, she focuses all of her attention, all of her rage, all of her magic, on that damnable mirror in the corner.
Instantly it explodes into a thousand tiny shards of glass. Slowly, grimly, Rarity smiles.
What I want? I want your face. Your pretty, pretty face. Give me that beauty you are so very proud of, that beauty that you hold in higher esteem than any dress or any gem. Give me your face … or they die.
His grin had been smug, confident. Too confident.
She had given it. Without hesitation. Without regret. She’d said yes.
And finally, at that, he’d stopped grinning.
It had hurt. It had hurt more than anything she’d ever experienced before, the feeling of flesh being torn right off her skull. She’d collapsed to the floor of the cave immediately, shaking and breathless, in so much agonizing pain that she couldn’t even so much as whimper, let alone scream.
“Rarity? What’s all that ruckus in there? Are you all right, sugar cube?”
She shuts her eyes and begins shaking her head, even though the voice is coming from the other side of the door and the voice’s owner cannot possibly see her. Perhaps, if she can just pretend … if she can just hold on …
“C’mon, Rare. I know you’re in there.”
That farmer always has been too stubborn for her own good. But Rarity can be stubborn too. Still ignoring her unexpected and unwanted visitor, she walks over to what remains of her mirror and stomps a hoof down on the remaining pieces of glass. It doesn’t even hurt. Nothing hurts anymore.
The door opens and shuts, but she doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t flinch when the curtains begin opening, flooding the room with harsh daylight. She blinks rapidly at the sudden assault on her eyes but otherwise doesn’t stir, not even when she feels a pair of warm, strong legs wrap around her shoulders.
She will not move, will not bend. She must not move. Must not react.
Is she okay? Is she even … is she … Oh, gosh, she looks like she’s … Don’t even think that! She’s gonna be just fine … Rarity! Rarity, you gotta wake up, you gotta … Everypony, back up! Give her some room! I’ll see if I can … Her face, guys … oh, Celestia, her face is … Hush it! That ain’t … it ain’t important right now …
They had tried. Every one of them, in her own way. Twilight had sworn that she’d find a spell to restore what had been lost, and Fluttershy had poured through her veterinary texts in hopes of finding something useful for ponies. Pinkie had baked absurd amounts of cookies and cupcakes, given over to Sweetie Belle with instructions to deliver the baked goods with a smile and a hug, and Rainbow Dash and Applejack had worked overtime to pool together enough bits to pay for the finest reconstructive surgeons in all Equestria.
Nothing worked. Nothing helped.
It was the nature of this particular brand of dark magic, Celestia had explained, her eyes soft and sad. Rarity had granted permission, had given her consent … and that meant what had been done could not be undone and what had been taken could never be restored.
“You’re bleedin’. You want me to go fetch ya some bandages?”
When she finally replies, her voice sounds far away and muffled to her own ears. “No. No, thank you. It … it doesn’t hurt very much.”
“All right. If’n you say so.”
“Well, I do say so,” she snaps back, more for the sake of pretending at normalcy than any true ire.
Applejack says nothing. Simply sits there and squeezes a little tighter. The silent rests between them, uneasy and tense, until suddenly Rarity smells the familiar, friendly scent of apples right before she feels a pair of gentle lips upon her forehead.
Instantly, Rarity jolts back to life, struggling against Applejack’s embrace, trying to pull herself free.
“N-no! No!” She thrashes her head back and forth, and she feels a snarl rise up in her throat. “Don’t kiss me! Don’t touch me! I’m … I’m hideous!”
“No, you ain’t!”
“Yes, I am!” She’s breathing hard now and much too fast. She feels like she’s drowning, like a riptide is pulling her under. “Don’t lie to me, Applejack! Please, of everyone, don’t you start lying to me, not now …”
Applejack lets go, but before the unicorn can even blink, a pair of orange hooves are cupping her face. With a mostly gentle yank, Applejack forces Rarity to look at her. Those green eyes burn bright and deep.
“Rarity, you listen to me and you listen good,” begins Applejack, very quietly, leaning forward close enough that Rarity can almost taste her. “I ain’t never told ya any lies, and I sure ain’t startin’ now. You got me?”
Rarity purses her lips--what used to be her lips--and stares balefully at her captor.
“You’re beautiful. You’re the most beautiful pony I ever did see.” Applejack pauses and smiles, a smile as gentle and warm as the breath on Rarity’s face. “The truth o’ the matter is ... you ain’t never looked more beautiful to me than you look right here and right now.”
There is no deceit in those open, green eyes. No insincerity, no cunning, no trace of the slightest falsehood. There is only Applejack, and there are only Applejack's quiet, honest words.
It’s too much. It’s too soon. It’s too everything, and somehow it’s still not enough. Rarity shuts her eyes, so hard that little flashes of light spark behind her eyelids, and finally the sobs come tumbling out of her, sloppy and wet and loud. Applejack just pulls her forward and holds her tight against her chest.
It’s still not enough. But it’s something.
It’s a start.
Author's Notes: By and large, you can easily tell which characters I most favor by tracking how much suffering I put them through. The more a character suffers, the more I like that character. That's kinda messed up, I realize, but there it is.
And yep, this is another story I adapted from a submission to a TMP writing prompt .
“Perfect” (FlutterDash)
Look, I know what Applejack's been saying. I'm not stupid, okay? I'm not, like, Twilight level smart, but I'm not stupid. I know they talk behind my back and all of that. I see Pinkie Pie grinning and giggling at me like an idiot when she thinks our backs are turned.
But it's not like that. It's not. Me and 'Shy, we go back, way back. We've known each other ever since we were fillies, y'know? We had … well, kind of a deal, I guess you'd say. I beat up the bullies and kept them away from her, and Fluttershy treated me nice. She smiled at me. Asked how my day was going. Stuff like that.
It was … pretty cool, I guess.
You know?
It was cool. Having somepony who cared about how my day went and all that.
But that's all just friend stuff. It's not like we were making out behind the bleachers or that I asked for her hoof in marriage after flight school. I mean, I've never even kissed Fluttershy! Well, yeah, okay, there was that one time, the night I won the Best Young Fliers competition, but we were just caught up in the moment. Could've happened to anypony. I mean, I bet if it had been Twilight there instead of 'Shy, it would've been Twilight that I'd--
Ha! Yeah, no, I can't even say that with a straight face. Totally, totally wouldn't have kissed Twilight. But maybe Pinkie Pie or Applejack, if they'd been there. Well, maybe Pinkie. If she'd brushed her teeth after drinking that rainbow. But the point is--they weren't there. Because they'd taken Rarity back down to the ground and left me and 'Shy back in Cloudsdale. Were they just supposed to abandon Rarity? Of course not. That's silly. So it was just me and 'Shy, and after I got back from flying with the Wonderbolts, we went down to this one bar I'd always liked and we--
Hey! You think I don't see that look you're giving me? I totally see that look on your face, and you better knock it off right now! Geez. Just like the look that AJ's always giving me, and it's bad enough when it's coming from her .
Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you is that they've got it all wrong. Fluttershy's just my friend. A really good friend, maybe even my best friend, but a friend. Just a friend.
And … and that's how it's gonna stay. All right? Because friends are important. Just ask Pinkie or, heck, even Twilight. No, wait, don't ask Twilight. She'll talk your ear off for an hour and then make you write a friendship report. Still, Twi's got one thing right, and that's how important friends are. I agree with the egghead one hundred and twenty percent on that.
Fluttershy was my first friend, and she's my best friend. And I'm not gonna lose that. I'm not gonna lose her . Not for anything, ever. 'Cause if I didn't have 'Shy, then who'd remember how to tell the difference between all forty-two of my different and totally awesome tricks? And who'd bring groceries up to my house when I've been too busy to go to the store? Or who'd cheer when I pull off a Sonic Rainboom, cheer loud enough that I can actually hear it over the boom’s shockwaves?
All of that stuff is … it's really cool. Having all that.
You know?
So, yeah. Yeah. Me and 'Shy, we're just friends, and you can tell that to Twi and AJ and Pinkie and Rarity and everypony else in all of Equestria. They can smirk all they want, but Fluttershy and the Dash know the truth. And that's good enough for us.
Thanks for listening, buddy. I really appreciate it. You're a good friend, too, Tank—and heck, if it wasn't for Fluttershy, you and me wouldn't even be friends! And I don't even wanna think about what my life would be like if we hadn't become such good pals. That's almost as depressing as thinking about what it'd be like if I didn't have these super awesome wings on my back.
You see? You see how right I am? I'm telling ya, Tank, Rarity doesn't know what she's talking about. Everything is perfect just how it is.
Absolutely perfect. Yep.
Perfect.
Just like her.
Author's Notes: This was adapted from yet another piece I submitted for a Thirty Minute Ponies prompt, this one being "It’s clear to everypony that Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy are a couple. Everypony except Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy."
"Shall We Dance?" (TwiShy)
Twilight Sparkle was a terrible dancer.
There was no escaping that very simple, very basic fact. Out on the dance floor, the unicorn's every movement was jerky and haphazard, just slightly out of time with the big band music that flowed like wine. Twilight's dancing drew attention in the worst possible way. It was large and broad and completely unrestrained, and she looked absolutely ridiculous with the way her eyes were scrunched shut tightly and the very tip of her tongue poked out the side of her mouth.
Fluttershy never loved Twilight quite so much as she did when that purple unicorn was dancing.
Off in a corner of the bakery, safe among the shadows and away from the eyes of others, Fluttershy stood and Fluttershy watched. She couldn't help it. Twilight's dancing all but demanded that she pay attention. In all her years, Fluttershy had never seen anything quite so … so brave. And Fluttershy was a pony who'd witnessed a great many feats of bravery and known a great many ponies with nerves of absolute steel.
But even Rainbow Dash's most death-defying stunts had never wowed Fluttershy to the extent as did the sight before her now. It was downright beautiful, seeing Twilight Sparkle … Twilight Sparkle, the mare who cared so deeply about others' opinion of her that she backed down from confrontation with the Great and Powerful Trixie and Twilight Sparkle, the pony who had a complete breakdown at the thought of turning in an assignment late and disappointing her teacher … in seeing Twilight Sparkle dance with such devil-may-care abandon and clumsy enthusiasm.
It almost made Fluttershy want to go out and dance with her.
Almost.
Instead, Fluttershy stayed in her corner and continued watching, as surreptitiously as possible, just out of the corner of her eyes. She kept on watching as Rainbow Dash flew by, with a yelling Applejack hot on her heels. She kept on watching as Rarity brought over a glass of punch and gossiped a bit about the various handsome stallions at the party. She kept on watching as Pinkie Pie bounded over and began babbling a mile a minute about the new words that Pumpkin and Pound Cake had learned just the other day. And Fluttershy kept on watching as Spike ambled over, a cupcake in one hand and a donut in the other.
"Heya, 'Shy."
"Hello, Spike." Fluttershy smiled in greeting, as her eyes darted over to the small dragon for a few seconds before returning to the dance floor. "How are you enjoying the party?"
"Well, it's a Pinkie Pie party, so it's totally great, y'know?"
Fluttershy nodded. She was an old veteran of Pinkie's parties. "Oh, yes. Definitely."
"How 'bout you? How come you aren't out there dancing with Twilight?"
Fluttershy's head whipped around so fast that her mane flicked Spike right in the nose. "W-what?" she gasped out, before she noticed Spike grumbling and rubbing his snout. "Oh! Oh, Spike, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you."
The dragon gave a good-natured shrug. "S'okay! I know it was an accident." He blinked up at her with guileless eyes. "Anyways, you've just been starin' at Twilight all night, so I figured you must wanna dance too."
Staring. All night. At Twilight.
Apparently she hadn't been quite as subtle as she'd hoped.
Fluttershy opened her mouth to respond—to deny, deny, deny—but the words wouldn't come out. She just stared down at Spike and wished, with all of her might, that the floor of Sugarcube Corner would suddenly crack open and swallow her whole.
Instead, Spike flashed her a grin. "Ohhhh. Is this that shy thing again? Don't worry." He patted her on the shoulder before turning away. "I'll go tell Twi that she should ask you to dance!"
"N-no!" Fluttershy lurched forward, eyes wide and desperate. "Spike, please don't—"
But the young dragon had already scampered off and disappeared into the throng of dancing ponies. Fluttershy simply stood there. Her heart thudded in her chest with a sickly heaviness, and a cold sheen of sweat covered her face. Some dim back corner of her brain wondered if this was what it felt like to know that one was about to die.
Because that was what was going to happen. Twilight was going to come up to her and yell at her for being rude and for staring all night, and then they wouldn't be friends anymore, and the others wouldn't want to be her friend either, because who would want to be friends with a rude, staring pony? No one, of course. And then Fluttershy would spontaneously combust from the sheer combination of humiliation and shame.
Not even Angel Bunny would come to her funeral.
But when Twilight came trotting over from the dance floor, the unicorn didn't look particularly inclined to yell. Twilight looked rather relaxed, in fact, and was waving to her happily.
Fluttershy swallowed and willed herself to not look away. It was funny, in a way, that all night she'd been unable to tear her eyes from Twilight—but now, she had to fight with all that she had to not lower her head and stare at the floor.
"Hi, Fluttershy!" Twilight sounded a bit out of breath, and her fur glistened with sweat under the bakery's fluorescent lights. "Spike said you wanted to dance."
Fluttershy swallowed. Twilight … wasn't mad. Fluttershy wasn't sure how to process that information, exactly, but she knew it was a good thing. Twilight wasn't mad. Maybe that meant Angel Bunny would come to the funeral, after all.
After several moments of silence, Twilight Sparkle leaned forward, close enough that Fluttershy could smell the punch on the other pony's breath. "So," Twilight prompted, with an encouraging smile, "would you like to dance?"
Fluttershy didn't, of course. She wasn't brave, like Twilight was. She couldn't just ignore all of those ponies' eyes, and she couldn't just lose herself in the music and its pulsing beat. She couldn't hold a candle to Twilight, really, and for the first time all night, Fluttershy knew what to do. She would smile at Twilight—a small smile, a just-friends smile—and thank her, then explain that she was just fine right where she was. She wasn't much for dancing, she would say, not at big parties like this one. She'd explain that she really liked her quiet little corner, and Twilight would nod in that understanding way of hers and leave.
Twilight would leave, and Fluttershy would be alone again.
Just like it had been all night. Just like it always had been and always would be.
"Twilight?" Fluttershy heard herself say, in a voice loud enough that it surprised even her. "I would love to dance."
Author's Notes: I know I've already drawn from the well of Twilight Sparkle Is a Terrible Dancer, but I liked this story too much to not post it. Written for yet another Thirty Minute Ponies prompt .
The Best-Laid Plans (TwiPie)
“The Best-Laid Plans” (TwiPie)
Dear Pinkie,
I hope that this letter will cause more happiness than hurt, but regardless, it’s a letter I feel I must write. Thoughts of you fill my every waking hour, and dreams of you fill my every night. You baffle and befuddle me, bewitch and bedazzle me, and almost against my will you have won my heart.
You are the singular most amazing pony I have ever known and, though I dare not confess these words to you face to face, I had to let you know. I had to let you know that your smile brightens my darkest days and that your songs, despite their unnervingly impromptu nature, always fill me with a sense of hope and reassurance.
It doesn’t make sense, but nothing about you ever has. But perhaps that’s all right. After all, it was Star Swirl the Bearded himself who said, “The ways of the heart are as Magic itself—a mystery to be explored and embraced but never fully explained.”
And so I end with this simple statement, written with a heart full of inexplicable mystery: I love you, Pinkamena Diane Pie. I love you, and I am …
Your Most Sincere Secret Admirer
Twilight Sparkle looked up from the paper that had been shoved in front of her nose and gulped audibly. She forced a grin onto her face, but she could feel it shaking at the corners.
“So, you have a secret admirer?” she stammered. “Um, and you’re telling me because … because you’d like my help in figuring out who it is?”
Pinkie Pie, who was grinning her usual, easy grin, just shook her head. “Nah, I already know who it is. But thanks, anyway!”
“Y-you do?” Twilight was pretty sure the library wasn’t this hot before Pinkie had arrived just minutes ago. At any rate, the unicorn seemed to be sweating a lot more than she should be on such a mild autumn day. “But how could you know?”
“Oh, c’mon, Twi! It’s easy peasy!”
Twilight glanced down at the paper again. “But that doesn’t make any sense! It’s clear from the weight and quality of the paper that it’s from the Dead Trees stationery store in Manehattan, while the ink is thick and dark enough that a pony is all but forced to conclude it’s been created from the Rorschach plant that’s only grown out in Appleloosa.” She gestured to the paper in question with a hoof, as she continued on, in her trademark lecturing tone, “In addition, this mouth-writing is obviously the work of a unicorn seeking to disguise her—I mean, their—usual horn writing.”
Pinkie Pie leaned forward and squinted at the love letter. When she looked back up, there was an unmistakable hint of admiration in her eyes. “Oooh. You’re good .”
“Yes. Thank you.” The unicorn gave a prim nod. “So, all in all, it’s safe to say that your admirer has gone to great pains to cover their tracks and hide their identity. I can’t see how you could possibly even make an educated guess as to who it is.”
“Like this!”
And then Twilight Sparkle tasted warmth. Warmth and cupcakes and sarsaparilla and more cupcakes and maybe a hint of hot sauce. She leaned into that warmth instinctively, embracing it, devouring it, before her brain caught up enough with present events to realize that Pinkie Pie was kissing her. Pinkie Pie was kissing her, and she was kissing Pinkie back.
Twilight leapt back, as her heart hammered madly in her chest and her tongue ran over the lingering sweetness on her lips.
Pinkie Pie was still grinning. Even wider than before, actually, if such was even possible.
“You silly filly,” the earth pony murmured, as she reached out and ran a gentle hoof through Twilight’s mane. “Who else would quote Star Swirl the Bearded in a love letter?”
Author's Notes: Here's another little piece I wrote in response to a TMP prompt . Never enough Twinkie fluff, says I.
Also, this may--or may not!--be based on the time I wrote an anonymous love letter to my high school crush and everyone in the entire senior class immediately knew it was from me and I wanted to crawl into a bottomless pit and never come out again.
Promises, Promises (RainbowPie)
“Promises, Promises” (RainbowPie)
It was the end of the world—or, at least, it felt that way to Rainbow Dash. Up was down, black was white, and nothing would ever make sense again, all for one very simple, very disturbing reason.
Pinkie Pie was late for a party.
Pinkie Pie was late for a party.
“Try not to worry so much, Rainbow,” offered Twilight, smiling in apparent blissful ignorance of the incredible hypocrisy of what she’d just said. The unicorn was already seated upon the picnic blanket spread out beneath one of Sweet Apple Acres’ most prized apple trees. “I’m sure Pinkie will be along any minute now.”
Dash frowned at her friend. “I’m not worried . The Dash does not worry .”
Twilight just sighed.
Meanwhile, Rarity, who was reclining on her little fainting couch, waved a fore hoof in the pegasus’ direction. “Our dear Pinkie is probably just finishing a batch of cupcakes or some other overzealous dessert.”
Rainbow Dash grunted noncommittally in reply. They didn’t understand. They didn’t know. They hadn’t been the ones who witnessed that godforsaken party last year on Pinkie’s birthday, and they hadn’t been the ones who saw the stark terror in Pinkie’s eyes as the earth pony blurted out, “You remember me!”
Nothing good ever came from seeing Pinkie Pie afraid like that. Not ever.
But just as the churning in Dash’s stomach intensified to the point where she almost didn’t want to finish off the entire plate of fritters Applejack had made, a familiar pink figure came into view. Seeing Pinkie Pie didn’t stop Dash’s stomach from churning, however. Because Pinkie wasn’t smiling, and Pinkie wasn’t bouncing, and Pinkie wasn’t laughing. On the contrary, she was trotting along at a positively languid pace, and her face looked pensive.
Rainbow swallowed and tried to ignore that awful feeling in her stomach. Meanwhile, the rest of her friends started waving and calling out to Pinkie.
“Howdy, pardner!” greeted Applejack, wearing a broad grin. “You got some cupcakes in those saddlebags of yours?”
Pinkie merely shook her head in reply. Then, taking off her saddlebags, she reached inside and pulled out a small stack of envelopes tied up neatly with a blue ribbon. She dropped them down right in front of Rainbow. Half curious and half afraid, the pegasus leaned forward to peer at them.
Instantly she recognized her own mouth-writing, and she frowned in confusion.
“They, um, came in the mail today,” Pinkie Pie explained, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “I … I guess there was some kinda mistake, and the letters were supposed to get delivered a few weeks ago but they didn’t, and …”
She trailed off uncertainly, but her gaze never left Dash. Pinkie’s eyes were always a blue as bright as the sky itself and almost frighteningly intense, but right now, right here, those eyes nearly burned a hole right through Rainbow Dash.
“Uh.” Dash scratched her head, wondering just what on earth she might’ve done wrong. “Sorry about them not gettin’ to you, Pinks, but I swear I sent ‘em every—”
Pinkie’s voice lashed out like the crack of a whip: “So you really did send all these letters?”
Rainbow Dash paused. She couldn’t quite interpret the meaning of Pinkie’s tone, that tightness and that tension, but she knew she’d best tread carefully. The sudden and unusual silence of the rest of their friends was also disquieting. To say the least.
“Of course I sent them,” Dash finally replied. “C’mon, Pinkie, who else has such awesome mouth-writing? I wrote one every meal break we got at the Academy.”
“Every meal break?” echoed Pinkie, blinking as if trying to understand some very complicated and arcane subject matter.
“Yeah. Nothing too long or too fancy, I mean, but still.” Rainbow Dash chuckled and gave a shrug calculated to look casual. “I promised you that I’d write to ya, didn’t I?”
Actually, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t entirely sure that she’d promised to write. But she’d known Pinkie wanted her to, and she’d always intended to, and she figured that was close enough to actually making a promise. Besides, even if she hadn’t technically promised, Pinkie should have known.
Softly, almost inaudibly, the earth pony repeated, “Every meal break …”
Slowly, like the dawn flooding the world with warmth and with light, a smile spread across Pinkie Pie’s face. Rainbow smiled in return.
“Dashie! You really did remember me!”
And then, just as a bright pink missile of affection hurtled forward with forelegs spread wide for a rib-crushing hug, the smile disappeared from Rainbow Dash's face in record time.
Rules Are Made to Be Broken (RariDash)
"Rules Are Made to Be Broken" (RariDash)
The first rule of hero work is simple. Smart. Sane.
Don't fall for the damsel in distress.
Oh, sure, you see that rule broken all the time in the movies and in books and stuff. But that's because all those ponies are amateurs . It's a total rookie mistake. It's not something you'll catch any of the pros doing. I mean, do you ever see Daring Do get involved with any of the mares or colts she saves from certain fiery doom? No!
Well, okay. Okay. There was that one unicorn in the second novel … and that earth pony in the fifth one … but that's not the point. It's not like she declared undying love to any of them, right? She just had a little fun. That's different. Completely, one hundred percent different.
At least, I thought it was different.
It felt different, anyway. It's not like I was taking Rarity out to some fancy pants restaurant with a bunch of violins and tiny little appetizers and romantic junk like that. I saved her, like the totally awesome hero I am, and she wanted to thank me. So she made me dinner. No big deal, right? Right. Just a bit of food and chitchat between two old friends.
Except … except it wasn't until I was in the Boutique that it really hit me that Rarity and me don't really talk that much, not the way I hang out with Pinkie or she hangs out with 'Shy. That's kinda a weird thing to realize. But we talked over dinner. She told me how all her dresses and stuff were going, and I told her about all my super awesome tricks, and I was pretty much bored out of my skull and I could see she was pretty much bored out of her skull too.
But she was trying. Y'know? She was smiling really big and pretending really hard that she cared about my tricks, because … I don't know. I guess it was all part of trying to say thanks for saving her from becoming a pony pancake. And somehow, somewhere along the line, as I was telling her about the Filly Flash, I realized I was smiling too.
I shut up, right about then, and just looked at her. It wasn't romantic. There wasn't any candlelight or flowers. But it felt weird anyway. I don't know why it did, but it did.
I asked her what the heck the difference was between a gown and a dress. I don't know why I did that, either. She just blinked at me for a few seconds, like I'd caught her off guard, and then laughed a little. It was that fake laugh of hers, the high one she uses when she's trying to flirt with some of the stallions in town.
"You don't want to hear about that, surely," she said.
I just shrugged. "Tell me anyway."
So she did.
She told me all about how to make a dress, from sketching to cutting to sewing to fitting, and she was right. I didn't really want to hear about any of that. But then she got this look in her eyes, kind of a far-off look, and her voice got softer. She told me about how it felt to have ponies look at a dress she designed, to admire it, to want it, and how it was like those ponies were seeing right into her soul.
And before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Me, too!" And then I was telling her all about learning new tricks, winning races, pushing myself to go harder and faster each day than I'd gone the day before. The entire time I was talking, that look stayed in her eyes, and when she laughed again, it was real.
I don't remember everything we talked about. At some point, I think we just said some stuff about looking forward to Pinkie's next party. But she kept smiling at me, and I kept smiling back.
It was pretty late by the time she walked me to the door, where we stood facing each other on her stoop. Neither of us were saying goodnight. I'm not sure either of us wanted to. Then, she was leaning forward, just a little, and batting her eyes at me. Suddenly it felt like my entire body was on fire—like I'd just gone ten rounds with the Flaming Lava Monster in the third Daring Do book—and it was hard to breathe.
It took me a second to figure out that it was because Rarity was flirting with me.
I'd seen her flirt a dozen times, a hundred times, but it'd never been me she was flirting with. Y'know? It's different when it's you. When you're the one getting that look , when it's your chest she’s brushing up against. She licked her lips and asked if I had to work early in the morning. I shook my head and told her that I didn't.
She asked me to stay.
She'd never looked more beautiful, and I'd never wanted a pony as bad as I wanted her right then and there. And it would've been fine, I know. That wouldn't have broken any rules. Just a one-night roll in the hay between two good old friends, no muss, no fuss, and then I'd get out of her hair in the morning. It would've been fine. Just a little harmless, meaningless fun.
I told her no.
I told her no and then, when she stopped smiling, I said that maybe we could have dinner again sometime instead. My treat, since she cooked for me this first time.
So, yeah. Yeah. I've gone and blown it. I broke the first rule of heroing, and I'm pretty much a total disgrace. I went and fell for the stupid damsel in distress.
I can't beat myself up too bad over it, though. Every time I try to, I keep remembering the way she looked at me that night after I’d asked her out, when she told me that yes, she'd go out with me. Or I keep remembering the way the smile slowly came back to her face. It wasn't that fake smile that meant she was humoring me or that flirty smile that meant she wanted in my saddle. To be honest, I'm not really sure just what that smile meant.
But I'm sure as heck gonna find out.
Author's Note
Happy RariDash! At long last! This is a story adapted from a submission to the Thirty Minute Ponies prompt "Daring Do’s Daring Don’ts!" (http://thirtyminuteponies.tumblr.com/post/37998104454/prompt-198-compilation-what-not-to-dare ).
"Growing Pains" (RariPie)
“Where you goin’, sugarplum?”
Said in a voice just a little too loud and a little too cheerful. Just a little too much.
“Just out somewhere,” comes the reply, in a low snarl, barely restrained. “And for the last time, I’m not a baby anymore, Mom. Stop calling me sugarplum!”
“Okie dokie lokie, sugar--” An embarrassed grin, paired with eyes as sad as they are blue. “I mean, okie dokie, Topaz.”
The door opens, and the door slams. Pinkie Pie stands staring at the front door for several long moments, standing more silently and more motionlessly than she’s almost ever been, and it breaks Rarity’s heart just to look at her wife. Finally, Pinkie turns around and gives a helpless shrug.
“I dunno what I’m doing wrong,” she confesses in a voice that’s soft and scared.
“Nothing, darling,” Rarity replies, shaking her head. “Our little gem is simply growing up. That’s all.”
Pinkie Pie frowns. “But that doesn’t make any sense, Rarishine. Topaz and I used to be the bestest friends ever, and now … now ...”
Rarity gets up from her work table and crosses the living room of the boutique, wrapping Pinkie in a hug as soon as she’s within reach. She concentrates on the feel of Pinkie’s face buried against her chest, on the surprisingly gentle inhales and exhales from the other pony, and she tries to ignore the tiny little voice in the back of her head that’s whispering terrible things. The voice that reminds her of all the days and nights a much younger and smaller Topaz would cry and yell, “I don’t want you --I want Mom! ”
Instead of listening to that traitorous voice, Rarity runs a soothing hoof down her wife’s back. “It’s just a phase, Pinkie. She’s trying to assert her independence, and at this age, all parents are tremendously unhip and embarrassing.” She drops a kiss into that mess of pink mane. “Topaz will grow out of it.”
There’s a moment or two of silence before Pinkie replies, her voice muffled against Rarity’s fur, “But don’t you still think your parents are embarrassing?”
“Yes. Well. That is because my parents are embarrassing.”
This time, the pause is notably longer. “Rarity? I’m not so sure this is a very good cheering ponies up talk.”
Rarity snorts, in the loud and unladylike way that only Pinkie Pie is permitted to hear. “My point, darling,” she says with a small chuckle, “is that Topaz still loves you very, very much.”
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
Rarity feels Pinkie give a tiny little nod. “O-okay. I hope you’re right, Rarishine.”
“Darling, just how many years have we been married now?” And then, before Pinkie can actually answer that question, Rarity adds, “Far too many for you to doubt that I am always right.”
They stand there, in the middle of Carousel Boutique, just leaning against one another, holding on to one another. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, by any means, and it won’t be the last. Rarity holds onto Pinkie as tight as she can, because she knows she won’t hurt Pinkie by doing so. Too-tight hugs aren’t what hurts Pinkie.
After just a few minutes, however, the front door opens, and Rarity takes a step back. The young mare in the doorway, a filly with beautifully sparkling eyes and a violently frizzy mane, fidgets with her forehooves and stares down at the floor.
It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop. The filly’s huge eyes, normally a light blue, are so wet that they almost look violet.
“Mom?”
Pinkie’s voice trembles, just slightly, as she says, “Yes, sweetie?”
“I’m … I’m sorry. For, you know, yelling at you. And stuff.”
Almost before the words are out of Topaz’s mouth, Pinkie’s across the room, scooping up the filly in a crushing embrace while laughing and crying and singing all at once. Topaz rolls her eyes but can’t quite hide a grin of her own. And then, almost in unison, both mares glance over to Rarity, a question and an invitation in their eyes.
Rarity waits just a beat or two, for dramatic emphasis, before relenting. “Oh, very well.”
Obligingly she trots over to her wife and daughter, and they pull her into their hug. Rarity can feel her fur grow damp with tears and quite possibly bodily excretions other than tears, as well, but she can’t quite stop herself from smiling anyway.
Author's Note
RariPie angst-fluff! Don't care that "angst-fluff" isn't a word! It should be! This is a story adapted from a submission to the Thirty Minute Ponies prompt "A lot changes when you're a teenager" (http://thirtyminuteponies.tumblr.com/post/44641493673/prompt-278-compilation-growing-pains-theme-week ).
“Out of Time” (RariLight)
I loved her, you know.
We never made a big deal out of it. There were no grand announcements, no big public declarations. The most we ever really did was hold hooves or cuddle a bit when it was just us six girls together. I asked her about that, once. Back when things were still fairly new, back when I was foolish and still insecure. I expected her to want to yell it from the top of Mount Canterlot, that she was dating a princess. The fact that she didn’t even seem tempted to do so made my chest tighten in a way I usually associated with facing down a particularly brutal exam.
She smiled at me, after I had asked. “The important ponies know. Everyone else … well, I don’t imagine they really matter.” She kissed me, then, softly, tenderly. Her breath smelled like the Merlot we’d been drinking. “Besides, I want you to know that I’m with Twilight Sparkle and not just with the Princess of Magic. I don’t want you to ever doubt the sincerity of what we have. The sincerity of what I feel.”
I told her that I wouldn’t, and I kept my word. I never doubted again. Not once.
I worried about her, of course, being in the Guard. When I moved to Canterlot, she insisted on coming with me--and, quite honestly, I would have had it no other way--and she insisted just as strongly that she serve in the palace as a sentry. I tried to tell her not to. I tried to remind her of her dedication to fashion, but there was never any reasoning with her when she had her mind set on something. “Fashion by day, guard duties by night,” she assured me in that airy tone of hers, “and sleep for after we’re dead.”
I frowned at her, but she just laughed. She always laughed off my worries, as we spent quiet evenings together in my private chambers, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes even as she laughed. Something scared yet determined and strangely hard. Hard and cold, like diamonds.
It was Spike who told me. He burst into the throne room, his eyes wild and crazy and fierce as fire, barreling past the guards who tried to stop him as though they were just so many ragdolls. I looked into his face, into those blazing eyes, and instantly I knew.
I knew .
She’d died saving Prince Blueblood, of all ponies. How stupidly, bitterly ironic. I started laughing when he told me that, and I couldn’t stop. I laughed and I laughed, the tears streaming down both cheeks, and my stomach hurt from how hard I was laughing. Spike rested a claw on my shoulder and whispered words soft and sympathetic, but still I couldn’t stop.
I think Celestia led me away before I started vomiting, but I’m not sure. I can’t quite remember. Everything after that was a bit hazy, just a fog of endless gray and a heavy ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away.
This ache in my chest doesn’t ever go away.
But it will. It has to. Quietly I lock the door to my chambers and head for the small, simple desk that stands next to my bed. On the desk lies a scroll, a scroll I’ve borrowed from the palace library, and right now that scroll is the most precious thing in all Equestria. Slowly, reverently, I unfurl the tattered parchment and read over the words I’ve pored over and over again these past few days. By now I know the spell by heart, but I’m not one to take risks. Especially not with this.
Satisfied, I set the scroll aside and concentrate. The magical energy builds up within my horn, pulsing like a heartbeat, and I close my eyes. Concentrate. Concentrate on what’s important. Concentrate on who’s important.
I hear the flash of light a split second before I can see it behind my eyelids. My fur stands on end, electrified, as energy crackles all around me. I take a deep breath and open my eyes once again. I’m in the palace’s east wing hallway, and with the night outside as dark as pitch, the few torches along the walls provide most of the light. The east wing receives relatively little traffic, as the public courts and throne room sit in the west wing, and the beshadowed hallway feels lonely yet claustrophobic.
It’s the perfect place for an assassination.
My hooves sound like thunder as they pound the stone floors, as I race down the corridors, as I whip around corners. Finally, after seconds that feel like hours, I see it. I see them. Prince Blueblood laying on the ground, unconscious but breathing, with Rarity standing astride him like a magnificent white Colossus. Her back is turned towards me, and the shine off her golden helmet fills my chest with warmth like rays from the sun.
I charge forward, and now I can see a cloaked pony just beyond Rarity and the prince, a dark and dangerous figure wielding a long rapier. Rarity has her own sword out, held aloft with her magic, and it swoops and darts through the air with the utmost grace and the deadliest precision.
“Rarity!” I call out, already firing up my horn for a magical assault, ready to join the fray.
“Twilight?”
She turns her head, glancing back with the tiniest of frowns, and our eyes meet. Even through the dark I can see the sparkle in those deep blue depths, the determination, the cunning, the hidden strength. But then those eyes go wide--too wide--and Rarity’s mouth drops open in a way no mouth ever, ever should. Slowly she sinks to the floor.
Behind her, the cloaked pony wipes the blood from their sword on one of the curtains hanging from the wall.
White light begins crackling around me, and despite how hard I fight it, I can feel it pulling me. Can feel it trying to force me to return. In helpless silence I watch as the cloaked pony dashes off, leaving the prince and Rarity laying right where they are, and I watch as Rarity struggles to lift her head and her gaze up to mine. There is pain in those eyes, those wonderful, beautiful eyes, and a light that’s fading quickly. But there’s also something else. Something more.
Realization. Acceptance.
Forgiveness.
“You didn’t know, darling,” she whispers and, somehow, she manages a smile. “You couldn’t have known.”
And then the hallway’s gone.
Author's Note
Will Rarity ever be happy and/or unmaimed in one of these stories? "Reply hazy, try again." This is adapted from a submission I wrote for the Thirty Minute Ponies' prompt "Rarity in the Royal Guard" (http://thirtyminuteponies.tumblr.com/post/60191714600/prompt-460-the-rose-of-canterlot-theme-week-day ).
“Lovesick” (AppleDash)
Rainbow Dash is pretty sure she’s about three seconds away from hurling.
At the beginning of this little trip of the damned, she might have thought it was because she planned to tell Applejack that she loves her. And that’s probably still some small part of why her lunch from earlier is threatening to make a return appearance. But the greater reason is probably because the boat they’re on is rocking back and forth as though they’re in the middle of a hurricane or something.
Dash isn’t seasick, though. There’s no way she’s seasick, because getting seasick when you’re planning to turn one of your best friends into your marefriend is not cool. It is very, very not cool.
Okay. Two seconds away from hurling, now.
“Rainbow?” Applejack’s got an eyebrow raised, and a frown’s tugging down on her lips. “You all right over there, sugarcube?”
Rainbow Dash loves it when Applejack calls her “sugarcube.” Even though Applejack calls everypony “sugarcube,” it doesn’t matter. It sounds different when she says it to Dash. It sounds special.
The pegasus forces a grin. She can feel the corners of her mouth trembling. “Yeah, sure! Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Well, to tell the truth, you’re lookin’ a little green around the gills.”
So very, very not cool.
“I’m fine,” says Dash. “It’s just … I don’t think Captain Pegleg knows how to steer the boat right.”
It’s not a very big boat they’re on--though it’s the biggest Rainbow Dash could afford to charter--and Captain Pegleg’s standing just a few feet away at the wheel. The grizzled old unicorn glances over his shoulder with a glare that could curdle milk.
“It ain’t my fault you’ve got the wibbly-wobblies.” He grunts for emphasis before turning back around. “I gave fair warning, landlubber, but as I recall, ye weren’t interested in good old Pegleg’s advice.”
Applejack laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like Dash, all right.”
Rainbow kind of wants to kick the boat captain for making her look stupid, and she kind of wants to hug him because Applejack has a really nice-sounding laugh. Mostly, though, Rainbow wants to be back on nice, stationary solid land. Which is really saying something about how much this stupid boat is rocking, given how usually she’d really rather be in the air than on the ground.
Still chuckling a little, Applejack glances back towards her. Applejack’s smiling now, a lazy sort of grin that Rainbow doesn’t often see, and the breeze coming off the water is blowing through her mane. Dash can’t remember the last time she’s seen Applejack look so peaceful--the last time they’ve spent this long together without yelling or arguing or getting into a wrestling match--and it’s worth it. If only for this one moment, this whole long, awful day has been worth it.
And then Rainbow Dash throws up.
She makes it to the side of the boat in time to hang her head over, retching loudly. Her stomach clenches repeatedly, like a boa constrictor wrapping around her prey, and Dash just closes her eyes as the misery washes over. Just as she thinks things can’t possibly get worse, she feels a hoof on her shoulder.
“Dang it, RD, I knew you weren’t fine. I ain’t stupid, y’know.” Applejack begins rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Why didn’t you say something, for Celestia’s sake? We can just tell the captain to head back for the dock if’n you ain’t feelin’ right.”
Rainbow Dash opens her eyes. The waters below the boat, churning in time with her stomach, are a deep and familiar of green. A shade of green she knows like the feathers in her own wings and a shade of green she never grows tired of.
Not bothering to lift her head, Rainbow mutters, “I love you.”
“Well, I love ya, too, darlin’, but I don’t reckon that--”
“No, I mean …” She swipes her foreleg across her mouth and glances up at Applejack. Applejack’s still smiling at her, though those green eyes hold a hint of worry. “I mean, I’m in love with you.”
Applejack’s smile doesn’t even flicker. The earth pony wraps a leg around Dash’s torso and helps her back up on her hooves. Rainbow leans heavily against the other pony, and it’s only partly because of how nice and warm Applejack’s chest feels against her cheek.
“Like I said, I ain’t stupid,” Applejack finally replies, her voice as soft as the breeze still blowing across the water. “And that ain’t all I said, neither. If’n you’ll remember, I believe I told ya that I love you, too.”
It takes a second to sink in. Rainbow’s just barfed up the entire contents of her stomach, and she’s still feeling a little off, a little shaky. But when it does sink in, when it finally clicks just what Applejack’s telling her, she feels a fierce, wide grin take over her whole face. She feels a giddy sort of rush go through her, the kind she gets when she’s pulled off a completely awesome flying trick, and she almost doesn’t even mind that her mane smells a little like seaweed and her mouth tastes worse than death.
“Best … date … eve r.”
Author's Note
This is a slightly revised version of a story I wrote for the Thirty Minute Pony Stories writing prompt "Rainbow Dash on the seas" (http://thirtyminuteponies.tumblr.com/post/60555029376/prompt-464-the-big-blue-theme-week-day-six ).
“Sunrise” (TwiPie)
It would be an understatement to say that Twilight Sparkle disliked getting up early. The life of an academic was, almost inevitably, the life of a nightowl. Many an evening had been spent alone with a book and a candle, reading into the wee hours, and Twilight was used to waking up far later than most of the other ponies in town. Fortunately, she had Spike to open the library and takes messages for her in the mornings.
But not this morning. This morning was different, and this morning was special. This particular morning, Twilight woke up while it was still pitch-black outside, stumbling out of her cozy bed with bleary eyes and cramped-up wings. A quick glance out her loft window showed her a still and silent town, with almost all of the lights turned out.
Almost.
Sweet Apple Acres was too far away to see from the library, but Twilight knew that, if it had been visible, all of the Apple clan would already be up and awake, preparing for a hard day of farm work. What could be seen from the library, however, was the top spire of Sugarcube Corner. Which, unlike the rest of town, held a lit lantern in its uppermost window.
Twilight grinned. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she hurried downstairs and grabbed the bright pink scarf that hung by the front door. Rarity had made it for her a few years ago. With a large smile, Rarity had explained that it was pink to complement Twilight’s coat coloring and, at the time, Twilight had simply nodded along.
In the here and now, Twilight wrapped the scarf around her neck, taking a moment to appreciate its softness and warmth, before she stepped out into the chill of an early autumn morning. She cantered through the empty streets of Ponyville at a brisk clip, and she couldn’t stop grinning the entire way to Sugarcube Corner.
She paused directly outside the bakery and, finally, perhaps inevitably, a spike of nervousness shot through her chest. It wasn’t that she hadn’t done this before--of course she’d practiced, over and over, dozens of times--but this was the first time she’d be doing this without Celestia by her side. Celestia had given her permission, and Celestia had said that Twilight was ready, but still Twilight’s heart sped up. Still her breath caught in her throat.
It wasn’t until she heard the humming that came from the window above, faint yet unmistakable in its origin, that Twilight regained her smile. That she remembered why she was here.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated. She reached out down within herself to grab hold of her magic as she thought of everyone in town, all of her friends, all of her loved ones. She thought about walking down the main boulevard during the busy lunch hour and all of the smiles and hellos she’d receive as she passed by. Reaching even further, she thought of the ponies she’d met in Manehattan and Cloudsdale, in Canterlot and Appleloosa, and of the ponies and other beings who lived even farther away still. The griffon kingdoms, the Crystal Empire, the dragon republic …
It was daunting, trying to think of the whole world, all of its inhabitants, all of its places, all of its complexity, all at the same time. But then Twilight turned her thoughts towards a pony who, impossibly, could do all of that, who positively lived and breathed for the chance to meet and make friends with the whole entire world.
A warmth rose in her chest as she thought of laughter and love. Of blue eyes the color of endless sky and of smiles as bright and fierce as the sun itself. Twilight grabbed hold of that warmth, molded it and shaped it and made it her own, and then she directed it outward. She directed it out through the streets of Ponyville and beyond, to the cities and towns and forests and fields that made up Equestria, to the mountains and deserts and seas that lay beyond the nation’s border. She took that warmth, the warmth that Pinkie gave to her, and she poured it out for the whole world to share.
When Twilight opened her eyes, it wasn’t dark out anymore. The sun hung low in the east, bathing all of Ponyville in soft shades of yellow and orange, and before her stood a single pink pony.
“Did you … was that ...” Pinkie cut herself off with a little shake of the head and licked her lips. In a tone of soft wonder, she asked, “For me? ”
Twilight nodded, beaming. “Happy anniversary.”
Author's Note
Thirty Minute Pony Stories shut down recently, after a multi-year run and more than five hundred prompts, and this is a slightly revised version of the final romance story I wrote for TMP. It was written for the prompt "Getting up early" (http://thirtyminuteponies.tumblr.com/post/75815463992/prompt-567-the-morning-shift ).
Beginning a New Chapter (TwiPie)
"Beginning a New Chapter" (TwiPie)
Contains spoilers for "Trade Ya."
Pinkie Pie was not a pony who overlooked things. She couldn’t be, if she wanted to remember the birthday of every pony in Ponyville so she could throw them super special surprise birthday parties. She remembered the birthday of every pony in town, and she remembered that raspberries were Rarity’s favorite fruit, and she remembered Applejack only slept in on Sundays and never any other day, and she remembered all kinds of stuff about all kinds of ponies and people who weren’t ponies too.
Sometimes Pinkie got a little too excited or a little too distracted by balloons or music or high-intensity explosives, but she didn’t forget things. She didn’t overlook things. Not the important things, anyway. Not the things that really mattered.
"I can’t believe you forgot Twilight’s horn," Rainbow Dash cackled, pointing to the poster Pinkie had made for Twilight’s stall at the Rainbow Falls Traders Exchange. "I mean, it’s just attached right to her forehead .”
Rainbow and Pinkie sat across from one another on one of the wooden benches in a train car of the Friendship Express, as the train rattled its way back towards Ponyville. The poster of Twilight sat in Pinkie’s lap and, just as Rainbow had said, the image of Twilight that Pinkie had drawn was missing the alicorn’s horn.
Applejack, sitting beside Rarity, let out a single snort of amusement. Pinkie felt her face drop into a pout.
Meanwhile, Fluttershy smiled as she set down her new bird call. “To be fair, other than the horn, it’s a very good likeness of Twilight. Especially considering how fast Pinkie drew it.”
Pinkie perked up a bit, but even so, she could tell her pouting levels were still non-zero.
Twilight giggle and leaned over to the earth pony beside her, giving her a brief nuzzle. “It’s a very nice poster, Pinkie. And I appreciate your trying to help me. Well, I appreciate the thought behind your trying to help me, anyway.”
At that, Pinkie let go of the rest of her pout. She turned and grinned at Twilight, who grinned right back, and everything was right as rain again.
Applejack was by far the loudest snorer of their small group, but Rarity gave the farm pony a good run for her money. In contrast, both Fluttershy’s and Dash’s snores were far quieter, almost like the buzz of hummingbird wings, while Spike simply mumbled incoherently in his sleep. Pinkie smiled in the stillness and the dark, wrapping the familiar sounds of all her friends around her like a blanket.
Except … not quite all her friends.
Slipping from her bunk, Pinkie Pie tiptoed down the aisle and toward the door of the train car. She cast a glance towards Twilight’s bunk on her way out and, just as she’d thought, saw only Spike curled up on the pillow, with his new comic book cradled to his chest.
In the next train car, lit only by a dim glow of magic and the moonlight streaming in from the windows, sat Twilight. A book lay open on the bench before her, and Twilight was leaning over it, her posture eager and her brow furrowed in concentration as she read. Other than the pony and her book, the train car otherwise stood empty.
Pinkie’s smile grew a little wider as she approached.
"Hiya, Twilight," she chirped, as she took a hopped up on a neighboring bench.
The alicorn’s head jerked up, and for a moment Twilight’s face went slack in confusion. Then, her eyes refocusing, Twilight offered up a small smile.
"Oh, hi, Pinkie." She tilted her head towards the door that led to the sleeping car. "What’s up? Couldn’t sleep?"
"Nopers! I’m too excited about telling Mr. and Mrs. Cake and Pound and Pumpkin all about our adventures when we get home!" Pinkie’s gaze wandered towards the still-open book. "Whatcha reading?"
"Just one of the old books I was going to trade." Twilight’s smile reached out to Pinkie through the darkness. "I really am glad you convinced me to keep them after all."
Pinkie nodded in reply. She remembered the tone Twilight used when she’d talked about them back at the Traders Exchange, that soft reverence and affection, and she remembered how Twilight specifically talked about the book that reminded her of Pinkie Pie.
"Pinkie Pie? Are you all right?"
Pinkie hesitated before slowly shaking her head. “Twilight? I, um. I didn’t actually forget your horn.”
"My … oh, in the poster, you mean?"
"Uh-huh." Still Pinkie didn’t look up. "I know you have a horn, ‘cause you’ve always had a horn, except for the time Discord took it away, but that was only for a little while, and it’s a really super pretty horn and I didn’t want you to think that—"
Suddenly a hoof was pressed against Pinkie’s lips, a wonderfully soft hoof that smelled of ink and dry paper, and then another hoof was gently tilting Pinkie’s chin back up. She found herself staring directly into Twilight’s eyes, which shone a dark violet under the moonlight. Pinkie swallowed again, and it hurt even worse.
Twilight pulled her hoof away from Pinkie’s mouth, but the hoof under Pinkie’s chin stayed where it was.
"Pinkie," said Twilight, her voice as soft as her touch, “whatever’s wrong, it’s okay. You can tell me."
Pinkie gave a small nod. “I drew your wings first. And then I drew the rest of you, and when I got to your head, well, I kinda sorta didn’t want to draw your horn.”
"Well, that’s no big deal. It’s just a picture." Then Twilight frowned, and Pinkie’s heart sank as she knew exactly what was coming next. "But why wouldn’t you want to draw my horn?"
"Because … because lots of ponies have wings, and lots of ponies have horns, but not lots of ponies have both wings and horns.” Pulling away from Twilight’s touch, Pinkie took a deep breath and continued, “And I know I said you weren’t better than other ponies, and I know you don’t think you’re better than anypony, but everypony else thinks you’re better, and …”
Pinkie stopped, partly because she’d run out of breath but mostly because she wasn’t sure she wanted to say the part that came next. But Twilight was still smiling at her, a patient smile, the smile that said Twilight would wait forever to hear the rest of what Pinkie had to say because Twilight knew this time what Pinkie had to say was important . And it was seeing that smile on Twilight’s face—seeing that smile and everything it meant, about Twilight, about Pinkie, about the both of them—it was seeing that smile that nudged Pinkie into speaking once again.
"In all the books I’ve ever read, princesses fall in love with princes or princesses or maybe sometimes knights," said Pinkie, her voice soft and sad. "They don’t fall in love with silly, unimportant little party planners."
Twilight’s eyes went wide, and Pinkie braced herself. For what, she didn’t quite know, but she set her jaw and locked her knees, and she forced herself not to look away. A responsible pony would face up to the consequences, and Pinkie could be responsible. Right here and right now, Pinkie had to be. And so she watched with firm resolve as Twilight hurriedly glanced away, as Twilight’s face went through a dozen or more different emotions, as Twilight’s nostrils flared and as Twilight’s wings rustled against her back.
Finally Twilight gave herself a little shake, as though just waking up from a nap, and she looked back up at Pinkie Pie. She looked at Pinkie with an unwavering, intense gaze that made the earth pony shiver a little inside. Reaching across the short expanse between them, Twilight cupped Pinkie’s face between both forehooves.
Pinkie held her breath.
Leaning forward, near enough that Pinkie could almost taste Twilight’s breath, Twilight whispered, “Maybe you and I need to find some new books.”
Author's Note
MOAR TWINKIE. It's back to being my OTP again, by the way, so yeah. This story was inspired by a screen shot that Krizak posted to his Tumblr, which showed the little poster of Twilight that Pinkie made for Twi's stall at the Traders Exchange. Krizak pointed out all the little hearts surrounding Twilight, while my Beloved Spouse pointed out that the drawing was missing Twilight's horn, and thus was a story born.
Thrill of Discovery (TwiDash)
"Thrill of Discovery" (TwiDash)
The intrepid explorer Daring Do crept along the clouds of the ancient pegasus ruins that floated high above the ground below. The ruins had appeared one morning just a scant few days ago, full of mystery and the promise of adventure, and immediately Daring Do had felt the call to exploration. What she’d found inside was even better than anything she could have dreamed of--scores of crumbling columns carved from cloud-magicked stone, glittering gems that had belonged to lords from the olden days, booby traps of the most ingenious and devious designs.
Slowly, carefully, she approached a large tapestry that hung on a far wall. It was comprised of the most elaborate design that the blue pegasus had ever seen, including golden threads that sparkled under the sunlight that was filtering down through the holes in the roof of the cloud-building. But even though the tapestry was truly beautiful to behold, that wasn’t why it held Daring Do’s interest.
It held her interest because it was a tapestry . And if there was one thing she knew about tapestries, it was that they always hid secret passageways. Or secret treasure. Or secret scrolls. Secret something or other, at any rate.
She was almost there, now. She licked her lips in anticipation. Just a little closer ….
“Rainbow Dash!”
Daring Do heaved a heavy sigh. She glanced over her shoulder, to where a unicorn stood by a bookcase and wore an exasperated look on her face.
“Aww, c’mon,” the pegasus groaned. “What’s the problem now? ”
Twilight Sparkle frowned, in a way that was both very familiar and very irritating. “My magical scans from earlier suggest the area you’re standing in is composed of highly unstable cloud matter. It’s just plain too dangerous to be over there.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes and flared her wings. “Dangerous? Danger’s my middle name!”
“Your middle name is Gertrude,” replied Twilight flatly.
“Ugh, don’t remind me!” Dash shuddered. “Besides, you oughta be thanking me, not giving me a hard time. You never would’ve been able to even see all of this if I didn’t know how to navigate pegasus cities and stuff like that.”
Twilight’s face softened a bit at that. “You’re right, Rainbow. And I really am grateful that you agreed to go on this archeological survey with me.” She glanced off to the side, a tiny smile on her lips. “Plus, I knew none of the other girls would appreciate these ruins as much as ...”
But Rainbow Dash wasn’t listening anymore. Now that Twilight’s gaze was no longer on her, she was back to sneaking towards the tapestry and whatever secrets that might lie beyond. It was so close, she could practically taste it. She reached out with a cautious hoof and, just as that hoof grazed the silky fabric of the tapestry, the clouds below her gave way.
Rainbow fell.
Instinctively she grabbed onto the tapestry, and it got yanked down with her as she began plummeting earthward. Terrible mistake. The huge, heavy piece of cloth smothered her, and as she struggled against its oppressive weight, she found that she couldn’t quite open her wings. With a loud growl, she flexed her wing muscles as hard as she could, but still the tapestry refused to--
Suddenly, she stopped falling. She hung suspended in the air, frozen, for a beat or two, then very slowly she felt herself begin moving upward. It wasn’t long before she landed on a bed of nice, solid clouds. She managed to throw the tapestry off of her in time to see the gentle purple glow of magic fade away.
Dash swallowed thickly and let out a slightly shaky laugh. “Thanks for the save, Twi. For a moment there, I thought I was gonna--”
“Stupid!” Twilight’s voice lashed out like the crack of a whip and, when Rainbow glanced up, she found the unicorn glaring down at her with blazing eyes. “That was so stupid! You’re so stupid! I told you not to go over there--I told you it wasn’t safe--but did you listen?”
Dash shrank back, almost involuntarily. “Twi-Twilight?”
“No, you didn’t! Of course you didn’t! You never listen! Because you’re Rainbow Dash, and Rainbow Dash doesn’t listen to anypony!”
Twilight held onto her glare for a few moments longer and then, suddenly and without warning, she burst into tears. Her sobs echoed off of the high ceilings of the ruined building, and Rainbow just sat and stared in silence. The tapestry lay right beside her, forgotten and utterly unimportant.
After Twilight’s sobs finally gave way to more muted sniffling, the unicorn whispered, “You could’ve … you almost …”
And it was then that Rainbow Dash understood.
She wasn’t always the most observant of ponies--nor the most sensitive, to say the least--but she wasn’t completely clueless. Quietly she clambered to her hooves and, hesitantly leaning forward, gave the other pony a comforting nuzzle.
“I’m all right, Twi,” she said, struggling to keep her voice low and gentle. “Everything’s all right. And ...” The words stuck in her throat, but she forced them out. “And I’m sorry. For making you worry and all.”
Twilight shut her eyes and nodded. “I … I’m sorry, too. I probably overreacted.”
“Maybe a little.” Rainbow chuckled. “I know it’s hard for you, Twilight, but you can’t control everything . Y’know? Sometimes stuff just happens, and it's nopony's fault.”
“I know. I just can’t help thinking, though, what if something happened to you?” Her eyes snapped back open, and she blushed. “I--I mean, to any of you girls. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I wouldn’t be able to--”
Rainbow Dash cut off the unicorn with a kiss. She could both feel and hear Twilight suck in a sharp breath, and for a terrible, endless moment, Twilight didn’t move and Twilight didn’t react. Then, just as Rainbow was about to step back and begin babbling apologies, the pegasus felt a foreleg wrap around her neck and pull her forward. Holding on tightly, Twilight returned her kiss with a desperate, grasping intensity, and Dash found herself breathless and panting by the time the kiss finally ended.
Twilight Sparkle stood there, just as breathless, and stared at the other pony with an expression in her eyes that Dash had never seen there before. “You are … you are absolutely incorrigible. Do you know that?”
Rainbow had no idea what that word meant, but she knew by Twilight’s grin that it was a good thing. So she just grinned in return before darting forward for another kiss.
Author's Notes: Another one adapted from something written for a TMP writing prompt? Eeeyup! The prompt that inspired this one was "An ancient pegasus ruin floats into the skies above Ponyville."
