Growing Problems

by Alovelylittlecomplex


Chapter 1

“Beware not the the fears and horrors that come from the dregs of one's mind, for they come from within, and one can conquer oneself. Beware not the enemies that seek your very death, for they at least promise the release of suffering when their task completes. Beware the idle mind, for it is unpredictable. Being unpredictable is lethal. Being unpredictable is destructive. Being unpredictable is chaos.” - Trotticus, 220 BC (Before Celestia)

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To say that Equestria has faced many problems during its history would be a gross understatement, an insult to what Celestia’s little ponies have survived through. Barring the occasional bunny stampede, the threats to Equestria were all too real. The ponies of Equestria had a real knack for attracting all-powerful, deadly mythological creatures to their pastel-colored homes, beings that did everything within their evil and often hunger-driven abilities to make a fitting snack of said Equestrian subjects. Notable examples include a metamorphic race Tartarus-bent on consuming the life energies of ponies, ancient behemoths such as hydras, dragons, and manticores that exist in droves and live in a proverbial stone’s throw of pony civilization, and various demigods of immense power rivalling (and alarmingly often, thwarting) the ruling deities of ponykind.

Thank goodness Celestia provides her subjects with free health insurance.

One of these beings, a certain purveyor of chaos, now reformed, sat idly alone in Fluttershy’s cottage. Idly for Discord meant only three laws of reality were being broken at the time, much to the dismay of the residential critters. To sate his boredom, Discord was currently animating the furniture of the house, content with having them argue amongst themselves over Equestrian economic theory while the cottage itself flickered through the various known and unknown dimensions of the universe. To top it off, several points within the house had a shockingly high gravitational field, drawing in bickering bookshelf and annoyed animal alike.

It was all very dull to Discord, who relished his ability to affect the vast majority of the Equestrian continent. After all, what pony did not enjoy vast swaths of various icings crisscrossing over the land? What pony did not enjoy reality-bending antics and forced personality alteration? ...Very few ponies apparently, which truly disappointed Discord. While appeased by altering reality near Fluttershy’s house, it still was a fraction of his possible influence. He needed to bring more chaos to the world; it was a matter of grave importance. Discord lived, thrived from the chaotic energies themselves, and sitting in this bubble was withering his presence in this domain. It ached to see so much peace and harmony in the world.

Not really though, he was just bored.

And in this boredom came a revelation. A loophole that Discord could exploit, one that would be technically allowed within the reformation contract, and exploit he did. With a simple snap of his claws, his mischievous deed was done, and the ensuing chaos would soon come. A slow grin crept over Discord’s face as he laid down upon his bed within the cottage, which was now arguing quite angrily with his lamp about proper commercialized banking regulations.

At the entrance to the bedroom, Angel Bunny, armed with a pot for a helmet and a lit candle for a blade, promised sweet, fiery death to Discord for intruding upon his sanctuary. Angel uttered a triumphant and menacing battlecry to signal his death charge unto the god of chaos, heralding Discord's demise. The result was a pitiful squeak and tumble for the offending bunny, who tripped on the rug in the center of the room. After being chastised for poor checkbook management by said rug, Angel, defeated, sulked off to his rabbit hole, muttering bunny profanities in his retreat.

“Ahh, sweet chaos.” Discord said, chuckling to himself as he watched the rodent.

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Ponyville, the next morning
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Twilight Sparkle awoke to a glorious morning provided by Celestia. Roused from slumber by the gentle twittering of several songbirds outside her tree’s window, Twilight set off to her usual morning routine. As she headed towards the bathroom to freshen up, her horn clipped the top of the doorframe, causing her to elicit a sharp squeak.

“Ouch! What the…” Twilight said to nopony in particular.

“Huh. I guess I had a growth spurt overnight. That’s quite odd, I’m fairly certain I’m passed puberty at my age… I should run some tests and record this in my journal. Perhaps it’s a direct result of alicorn ascension and magical exertion?” Twilight thought to herself while brushing her teeth. After her mane was styled, she headed down, clipping the doorframe once again, followed by a curse.

Downstairs, Spike was preparing a hearty breakfast of fruit, pancakes, and juice. He was particularly cheery this morning, humming as he drizzled several dazzling gemstones into the pancake batter. Twilight noticed his joyful demeanor and commented on it while helping him cut some apples.

“Morning Spike! What made my Number One Assistant so happy as to warrant gems for breakfast?” Twilight joked as she playfully ribbed Spike with one of her wings.

“Oh nothing really, Twilight. Just so you know, I happen to be a man now.” Spike said smugly as he finished setting the table.

“I see. Finally cutting out the bubble baths and daily naps? Oooh, wait, don’t tell me, you managed to stay up past 9:30?”

“Lay off it Twilight. Tell me, what do mares look for in a man?”

“Somepony who doesn’t blatantly disregard that all mares have different tastes in stallions, and, recently, in other mares.” Twilight said bluntly. She had taken that equinology course, after all.

“INCORRECT!” Spike shouted triumphantly. “They desire a tall, muscular, mustachioed, sexy hunk of a dragon. And now, I am proud to say that I am already 25% there! Check me out!” Spike went on to flex his (admittedly flabby) arms.

Stifling a chuckle, Twilight decided to humor him. “Yes, you’re a strong baby dragon, Spike. Now let’s eat, I’m famished.”

“It’s not the muscles,” Spike replied, annoyed. “I’m taller now, can’t you see?”

“I can’t see you over these pancakes, and you aren’t getting any if my stomach has anything to say about it. Now eat, we have to go to the market today and meet the girls to talk about the gala next week.”

After the two had breakfast, they headed out to the market, with Twilight somehow forgetting to duck at each door.


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At Carousel Boutique
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It should be no surprise to anypony that Rarity is a stickler for detail. Her trained eye and keen magical technique created superb and wondrous works of craftsmanship rivaled only by the elite artisans of Canterlot. Indeed, her only flaws were her penchant for drama, overtly generous nature, and inability to settle for less than perfection.

Naturally, a problem arises when suddenly, inexplicably, her entire wardrobe does not fit. Many an anguished cry and conveniently placed fainting couch did not go unused that morning. The theatrics of her lamentations were enough to awake Sweetie Belle from her slumber, and this filly was not pleased. After all, when your absurdly genius plan to become Cutie Mark Crusader Beekeepers (yay) fails and results in numerous stings and bruises, calm temperament is a low priority. As she headed down the stairs, she found Rarity on a plush couch and awash with misery.

Sweetie Belle, accustomed to her sister’s theatrics, was about to question her until she was abruptly cut off by Rarity’s sobbing.

“GO AWAY! -nom- I’M HIDEOUS; NO PONY SHOULD SUFFER -om nom-  BY LOOKING UPON MEEEEEEE!!” Her wails were intermixed with several generous mouthfuls of ice cream.

“Rarityyyy,” Sweetie Belle squeaked. “It’s seven in the morning. Why are you crying like Twilight did when somepony folded one of the pages in her A Reference Guide to Studying book?”

“Oh… It’s nothing, darling.” Rarity composed herself for a moment. “It’s just that, in my profession, as you know, image is everything. Any change in appearance or form can have a catastrophic impact upon the dresses I design. And well…” She said, pointing at her personal wardrobe, “It seems that my premiere personal line is now unusable because… Because…” she started wailing once again. “I’M FAT! A GROTESQUE -om- CREATURE UNFIT TO WALK IN PONYVILLE BECAUSE -om nom- I AM A BLEMISH TO SOCIETYYYY!!”


“And your solution is to stuff your face with ice cream?” Sweetie squeakily replied, confused.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND MY PAAAAIN!” Rarity said, sobbing. “I also have received an… unsettling number of complaints from my clientele about incorrectly sized formal wear. That’s absurd, I tell you! I fit them to the ‘T’! TO THE T! THERE ARE ONLY THREE LETTERS IN FIT!” Rarity started shaking Sweetie Belle in her frustration.

“W-won’t that m-m-mean all those fa-fancy p-ponies who o-ordered your clo-othes w-won’t have p-proper dres-sses and *dear Celestia make it stop* tuxes for the Grand Galloping Gala next week?” Sweetie managed while suffering from the Rariquake.

“Oh. Oh my. That’s not- I think I’ll just-” Rarity sputtered while taking in the implications before fainting once again on the couch. In total, nearly two thousand bits would need to be either compensated for or reimbursed with discounts, not to mention the time and material needed for adjustments and alterations.

Back at Fluttershy’s cottage, Discord was preparing the television with growing anticipation. After muting the TV’s lecture on supply side economics, he excitedly pulled out a giant, singular popcorn kernel and began munching on it as a news report played out on the screen.

Crhhsssk. Breaking report, Canterlot nobility crashes the economy of the local and professional fashion designers in a desperate attempt to find proper clothes in time for the gala. Tailors everywhere are suffering from fabric and gem shortages, which is further causing massive inflation of prices in the textile and mining industries all in the span of one morning. In other news, minimalistic hats have had a fantastic reception on the market, with the most popular being one comprised of three pieces of hay and a drinking straw. We will now return to your regularly scheduled programming. Crhhsssk. Hi! Filly Mays here, and I’m going to show you this fantas- click.”