She just wants to get home. Explaining the group's actions during that last mission took hours longer than it should and now that the palace has finally been fully briefed, all Applejack has to do is make her way to the capital's central train station. Enter the Grand Gymkhana, catch the last westbound of the night and eventually, she'll be in Ponyville. Back on the Acres. Surely she can manage that much, even when stumbling through an empty city while half-lost within a thick winter fog. But the mists are making edges blur, and it's becoming so hard to perceive what truly is.

And then she finds somepony who can no longer truly see the world at all.

Tonight, Applejack is the enemy. And there can be no peace with those who already lost the inner war.

(A standalone, no-prior-reading-required part of the Triptych Continuum, which has its own TVTropes page and FIMFiction group. New members and trope edits welcome.)

Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.

Hitch doesn't really like change. It used to be that if tomorrow wound up pretty much the same as today, with forensic analysis needed to distinguish either from the day before... then that meant he'd done his job. The peace had been kept.

And now everything has changed. There are pegasi and unicorns in Maretime Bay, some of whom seem to believe that they've brought their own laws with them. The task of keeping those interactions from becoming explosive is being pressed between the hooves of one stallion. A decidedly harried, extremely overworked stallion who doesn't like change, happens to be raising a baby dragon on the side, and doesn't understand the other two cultures at all.

Hitch is tired. That's probably not going to change any time soon.

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Only a few days have passed since magic's restoration and when it comes to the little things, Pipp is still trying to adjust. Minor details like 'all of Zephyr Heights still knows I couldn't really fly' and 'I went outside and the dirt got me.' The royal family's reputation still needs a touch of repair, and that's why her mother is considering whether to send the siblings away for a while. Just until the gossip cools down.

Zipp wants to go investigate the new. Pipp would like to have her status quo back, thank you very much. So they can really fly now? Why does that mean things have to change?

...and maybe she can also make... lightning? Electricity? As in 'that stuff which keeps my phone, and therefore me, alive'?

The new might have possibilities. Which includes an increased chance of exile.

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Nothing ever changes within the forest. Public joy is shameful, pleasure fleeting, and you're not allowed to talk about what you're missing. They tell you what not to say, because that's the best way to make sure you think about it all the time. The younger generation is taught to be just as miserable as the older, allowing the perpetual miasma of depression to occupy fresh hosts. And so the facade which calls itself 'life' goes on across the centuries. Without change and, for the pain of loss, without end.

There's nothing new in the forest. There never will be.

And then there is.

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The heroic life isn't necessarily glamorous. Ben didn't get to fight the most recent alien to pop out of a pocket wormhole, because it collapsed shortly after arrival. The weird quadruped (a hand at the end of its tail, eyes where its nostrils should be) is currently doing nothing more than sleeping the trip off. But the Plumbers need to know what it's doing here -- and as long as it's asleep, there's only one means of interrogation available. Which requires using one of his least-favorite forms, but... that's the heroic life for you.

It's just that someone's already invaded that alien's dream.

And she has no problems with telling Ben how bad he is at it.

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Rarity generally tries to embrace innovation: after all, a mare who's always trying to stay ahead of the trend (or just outright create it) must be ready to accept the new. And the stress generated by a designer's life creates a certain need to... relax. Something where, quite frankly, spa sessions and private time in the designated screaming room aren't always enough to do it. So what's wrong with following up on a magazine article and personally learning how buffalo meditative techniques have been newly adapted for unicorns?

Absolutely nothing. Unless, of course, she recalls that some of her friends happen to enjoy pranking.

She doesn't always remember that last part in time.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

Pinkie knows that being a baker means taking a lot of responsibility for your product. The bread has to rise with Celestia. Nopony needs to go through Round Two on the Baked Bads. And if at all possible, you should absolutely avoid serving the kind of 'donuts' which summon an eldritch horror from beyond space and time to destroy the world.

The Cakes keep slipping up on that last part. Not deliberately, at least in that they don't know they're doing it -- but somepony still has to clean up the tentacled mess, and do it by the time Sun is raised. Which is going to be Pinkie. Again.

Break out the caffeine. It's going to be a long night.

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Rated C for Cthulhu Crackfic.

Even for a superfan like Rainbow, there are things you don't learn about the Wonderbolts until you become the newest part of the squad. Like how the view from the back of the formation never really changes, or that the slipstream carries a few unwelcome scents to the rear position. Or laundry. Nopony told her that the new mare was going to be responsible for doing the laundry. And the whole wash/dry process is just boring.

There's got to be a way to make laundry more interesting. Surely she can make an impression on Spitfire if she just... stunts it up.

Rainbow always makes an impression on ponies. And the landscape. A few windows. The occasional building...

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

This story is a sequel to Unnoticed

Do you know the mare? So many believe they do. A single glance is more than sufficient to teach them everything. And given that they now know everything, there's clearly no need to make any further inquiries. She is what they've decided her to be. No more, and it would take quite a bit of effort to create any degree of 'less'.

Do you know the pegasus? The mailmare, the single mother, the incompetent, the town's lowest-flying joke? Is that what you've told yourself?

Do you know her?
You don't.

(Part of the Triptych Continuum, which has its own TVTropes page and FIMFiction group. New members and trope edits welcome.)

Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.

While this story is tagged as a sequel, it's just following up on her previous appearance there: no knowledge of that piece is required.

What does a mayor do? On a good day, you get to nose over an award. It helps if you can make sure the weather schedule comes off on time. But more than anything else, it's about leadership. Taking responsibility for the safety and comfort of all those who live within your domain. That's how it's supposed to work. The mayor is the one who makes sure everything is under control.

This is Ponyville. Marigold is fully aware that on a typical day, approximately nothing will be under control. But when it comes to protecting those who live there, she still has to do whatever she can.

If there's anything left which she can do at all.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

Cover art from a vector rendering by DaAfroMan.